Facebook Friends
by GreenPuma
Summary: Bella is shocked when her sexy but standoffish lab partner, Edward, friends her on Facebook. Will Alice, convince her to accept Edward's friend request? Or will she write it off as a prank of the conceited, spoiled rich kid she knows him to be?
1. Little Earthquakes

**Appreciation for My Betas**

_**Gondolier**_ took a big chance on me by agreeing to beta this fic. I was an unknown author and I approached her with my idea and the first chapter and she (miraculously) said yes. My beta team is rounded out by a small but dedicated group that was unwittingly recruited (::cough::_harpooned_::cough) somewhere along the way. I originally recruited (::cough::_fangirled all over_::cough) _**SassenachWench **_to beta "_The Art of Worship"_ and _**Mabarberella**_ to beta "_Centuries of Practice"_. They were so great at it that I started sending them chapters of FBF. Finally, I asked _**Holly16**_ to marry me, because she's my musical soul sister. She said no to matrimony but yes to doing beta and musical consultations, so I took what I could get. Everlasting gratitude to all of these ladies! Without them, believe me—this fic would suck.

**Disclaimer**

All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * * * *

_Oh these little earthquakes._

_Here we go again._

_Oh these little earthquakes._

_Doesn't take much to rip us into pieces._

_**- "Little Earthquakes" by Tori Amos**_

**BPOV**

I picked up my phone to read the tweet that had announced itself with a melodic chime.

_**Puma75:**__ Just threw some video of Phil's party on YouTube_

_Thanks, Mom_, I thought, rolling my eyes as I threw my phone back on the table. Since Renee had been catapulted into the twenty-first century, she was abusing the hell out of the technology; posting stuff on YouTube, writing on my Facebook wall, and insisting I follow her on Twitter.

Unable to be bothered, I turned my attention back to my _We TV_ movie and bowl of Cap'n Crunch. It was the first Saturday in weeks that Charlie had gone fishing, and fuck if I wasn't going to watch as many chick flicks as I wanted.

Since transferring my mother's care to Phil and moving back to Forks, I'd found relish in things other teenagers took for granted. All my life I'd been the parent—running the household while handling Renee's flights of fancy, nursing a relationship with my solitary father during brief visits through the grief-stricken years. But a new dynamic had emerged in the six months I'd been in Forks. We'd come to a silent accord: love Renee but let her go. It didn't make us function like father and daughter, but moving on did bring us closer.

What that meant for me was a life more normal than any I'd ever known. Though I did cook for Charlie (only because he was a disaster in the kitchen), he took care of everything else—maintaining the cars, paying the bills, keeping the house in a state of good repair. A week after I arrived, we shopped for the first new furnishings the house had seen since my birth. Seventies-era yellows and blues were replaced by modern neutrals and soft greens; the ratty plaid sofa set in the living room was scrapped for a long indigo single; the clutter of photos on the mantelpiece had even been removed to make way for a sleek flat screen television. And the unprecedented luxury of cable TV gave me a new lease on life.

Three hours, one more movie, and half a bag of Funions later, I headed for the shower so as not to be late when the gypsy came. Her favorite boutique was getting in new arrivals, and she'd recruited me for the pilgrimage to Port Angeles. Shopping wasn't my cup of tea, but Forks was pretty dead, and some part of me jumped at any chance to get closer to civilization.

Alice. From my first day at Forks High when she plopped down next to me in Spanish class, she informed me that we'd be great friends. And we have been. At first, I didn't know what to make of her grand declarations. I went from thinking she was pushy, to benignly outspoken, to (now) freakishly confident. I guess opposites attract.

After pulling on a pair of skinny jeans, a snug white long-sleeved tee, and a little brown padded vest that was sure to meet Alice's approval, I brushed out my shower-damp hair and headed downstairs to grab the money Charlie left me. A glance at the microwave clock told me I had a few minutes to kill, so I cracked open my laptop and a root beer, and hit all of my usual sites. Sometime between watching Renee's video and snickering at Newton's stupid-ass status updates on Facebook…

_**Mike Newton**__**is single and ready to mingle**_

…I noticed I had a new friend request.

Huh.

It wasn't that I didn't have friends, mind you. Just, everyone I knew—my clique in Forks, my crew from Phoenix, Renee and Phil, even Jacob and Seth on the Res—was already connected to me. I was still wracking my brain for who it might be as I clicked the link. When my eyes focused on the thumbnail-sized photo of Edward Cullen, I choked on the soda I was attempting to swallow, sputtering root beer ungracefully through my nostrils.

_Edward fucking Cullen?_

I closed my eyes, tried to even my breathing. When I reopened them, his friend request was still there.

_Edward added you as a friend on Facebook. We need to confirm that you know Edward in order for you to be friends on Facebook._

I read the words once, twice. I looked back and forth between the "Confirm" and "Ignore" buttons. The sexy but standoffish Edward Cullen was friending _me_ on Facebook? The same Edward Cullen whose cold shoulder froze me out of my seat every day in bio class? This had to be a joke.

"Bella?" Alice's quasi-frantic voice shrilled from the hallway.

I hadn't even heard her open the door. Shaking my head to snap myself out of my trance, I looked up from my computer.

"What's going on?" she demanded. "I was knocking for, like, five minutes."

A guilty glance at my computer clock confirmed that I'd been staring at the friend request for at least fifteen.

"Sorry…" I mumbled, still dazed.

I pushed the laptop towards her, not yet trusting myself to comment. She slid into the kitchen chair next to mine, and when her eyes fell upon the screen, they widened considerably. I braced myself for an ear-splitting, high-pitched trill.

"Since when are you friends with Edward Cullen?" she screeched.

I felt more like myself when my eyes rolled of their own volition and a snarky retort rolled off my tongue.

"Since the sandbox, of course!"

Alice didn't flinch.

"Well, don't you want to be? Edward Cullen is a total fox—what are you waiting for?" she demanded.

It was a loaded question. Anyone who said they didn't want to get closer to Edward Cullen was surely lying. His sage-colored eyes, that silken voice, and the sumptuous aroma that wafted around him held a magnetic pull that drew man, woman and child into his orbit. Yet, the only thing as certain as his magnetism was the finality of your position around him. He only brought people in as close as he wanted to. And me? I wasn't even in the Edward galaxy.

I must've spaced again because, suddenly, Alice was reaching for the laptop. I surprised myself by the speed with which I swatted her hand away.

"Alice! I can't confirm his friend request!"

"And, just what is stopping you?"

I stifled a groan. Alice was confident, and beautiful, and rich, and so busy seeing potential that she often ignored reality. She didn't understand how different life was for people like me—people who were plain, quiet, and shy.

"Alice…" I said patiently, training any condescension out of my voice as I chose words fit for a five-year-old, "…people like me are not friends with people like Edward Cullen. And, even if they were, they wouldn't get that way by confirming a friend request on Facebook."

"But—"

"It's a sick joke."

Speaking the words stung me, even though they were true.

"Bell—"

"Forget about it, Alice. I have."

And I hit the 'Ignore' button. And that was that.


	2. If I Were a Boy

**Chapter 2: If I Were a Boy**

_If I were a boy even just for a day_

_I'd roll out of bed in the morning_

_And throw on what I wanted, and go_

_I'd drink beer with the guys_

_And chase after girls_

_I'd kick it with who I wanted_

_And I'd never get confronted for it_

_'Cause they stick up for me_

_**- **_**Beyonce,**_** "If I Were a Boy"**_

**EPOV (the previous night)**

Emmett's obnoxious cackle overtook my room, earning a distracted wince from noise-sensitive Jasper and a sideways glance from me.

"Goddamn, bro. These bitches are finger-lickin' hot for you!"

Ever since Emmett got with Rosalie Hale, he'd been living the single life vicariously through his two best friends, and since Jasper was not-so-clandestinely in love with Alice Brandon, that pretty much left me.

"Which one?" I asked absently, too comfortable in my zero gravity chair to muster any real interest.

Emmett sat across the room at my enormous computer desk, the piece de resistance that started us calling my room the bat cave. Whereas most kids had modest rooms with a respectable bed, some shelves for books, a laptop, and maybe a TV, my room was tricked out with a California King, a full living area with sofa and chairs, a state of the art entertainment center with surround sound, and professional-grade computer equipment that I used for music editing.

I didn't like to think of myself as spoiled, but my room incriminated me. My parents' obscene wealth was to blame for our ostentatious house; growing up around their fine things had cultivated within me certain tastes. In all honesty, most things I cared about required little money. Not that most people cared to find out the truth.

Jasper and Emmett were different. They didn't put me in a box. They didn't judge me for things they knew nothing about. Among the three of us, we were twenty kinds of misunderstood. It had made for becoming the best kind of friends.

Our Friday night ritual of video games and bong hits had been bastardized by Emmett's new hobby—trolling my Facebook account. It didn't help that it was Jasper's turn to pick the game this month. "Civil War: A Nation Divided" was no "Guitar Hero", and stopping to strategize every five minutes was killing my buzz.

"Lauren Mallory, dude. She just threw her thong at you on SuperPoke. And that Victoria chick wants you to take the 'What is Your Sex Color?' quiz. Hers is vermillion," Emmett murmured, waggling his eyebrows.

_Ugh, gross. _

"Edward—what is your favorite command?" Emmett asked in a teacher-like voice, "'Obey', 'please', 'now,' or 'follow?'"

"It's 'shut up', you dickwad," I said, throwing a lighter at his head. He'd better not be filling out that fucking quiz.

Even after we resumed the game, I was still a little disturbed. I only got on Facebook in the first place to keep in touch with my cousins from Alaska. At the beginning, accepting friend requests from people at school had seemed benign enough. By the time I figured out that half of my female "friends" were treating it like some sleazy internet pick-up site, it was already too late. I wondered whether you could un-friend people…

"So, Em…what's Rose up to, tonight?"

I swear, 'obvious' is Jasper's middle name.

"Roller derby, same as always…" Emmett said, too innocently.

Yeah—practice with the same team that Alice Brandon just _happened_ to be on.

"Huh," Jasper uttered, pretending he was just making conversation.

He was too easy a target for Emmett not to throw a curveball. I waited for it.

"Yeah, she said tonight was a special practice—bikini pudding-wrestling, or some shit."

Jasper blanched. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. It didn't make any sense to begin with, and if it were true, Emmett sure as shit wouldn't be here with us.

"We should go to her next bout," I suggested helpfully, throwing Jasper a non-gay wink. "I dig girls in booty shorts."

Jasper looked relieved.

"They're up against Port Angeles three weeks from Saturday," Emmett offered knowingly. "We should definitely go."

Yeah—we so had our boy's back.

"Bella'll probably be there, too," Emmet continued, clearly for my benefit.

_Meddlesome prick._

"Jesus Christ, Em," I muttered with as much annoyance as I could muster, "I help her clumsy ass off the cafeteria floor one goddamned time, and you think I'm in love with the girl."

Emmet could give lessons in the righteously indignant eyebrow arch.

"It's more than you've ever done for those other Forks High bitches."

Benedict Jasper shrugged affirmatively.

"Come on, man--get wise!" I scoffed. "If I went spreading that Prince Valiant shit around, they wouldn't stop with e-mailing me pictures of their tits. They'd be coming to my fucking house!"

I only needed to see the look on Emmett's face to know the "t-word" registered.

"Dude, who sent you pictures of their tits?"

* * * * *

**BPOV – 1 Week Later**

"_Forget about it, Alice. I have."_

My own lie played on a loop in my head. But a week went by and I didn't forget about it, not that Alice would let me.

She spent part of Sunday doing recon on who else at Forks High was Facebook friends with Edward. By Monday morning, she was in full spy mode, dressed like one of Charlie's Angels as she surreptitiously studied him in the parking lot, cafeteria and quad from behind dark (and clearly unnecessary) sunglasses. She spent until Friday trying to convince me that Edward was checking me out just as stealthily as she was him. But, the fact that he had been as aloof as ever in bio, making no allusion whatsoever to the friend request, told me everything I ever needed to know. None of it was for real.

Friday night I went to roller derby practice with Alice—and when I say 'went to practice' I mean 'stood on the side of the rink and tried to avoid major injury'. I let Alice think I was just tagging along because I didn't have anything better to do. The truth was, I was fascinated by the girls on her team. They were all so tenacious and physically superior and fucking kick-ass—so opposite of everything I was—I kind of hoped that some of it would rub off on me. And my ulterior motive—watching Alice like a hawk—had to do with her teammate and secret acquaintance, Rosalie Hale. The same Rosalie Hale who was dating Emmett McCarty, one-third of the Bod Squad and close associate of Edward Cullen.

Rosalie was a mystery to me, but I didn't exactly dislike her. At first I dismissed her as pompous and vain until I realized that what came off at bitchiness was really an extreme boredom with the Forks High social scene. Outside of school, she seemed a lot more normal. She'd gotten along well with Alice for the two years they'd done roller derby together, and apparently she had a lot of other stuff going on, like volunteering in NICU at the hospital and working at her brother's auto garage.

Rosalie and Alice weren't exactly friends, but I knew for a fact that they talked. Though they never spoke at school and never hung out (I strongly suspected I was the only person at Forks High who was even aware that they knew each other), there was clearly some level of trust and camaraderie between them. Still, that didn't mean I wanted Alice mining information.

"So, Edward's not seeing anyone," she said casually on the ride back to her place.

I grimaced. Some job I'd done on Alice control.

"No wonder--he spends all his time stalking strangers on Facebook."

"He likes you, Bella!" she insisted yet again.

And since I'd run out of responses for her provocations…

"Kind of like how Jasper likes you?"

I smirked as Alice grimaced at the taste of her own medicine. She'd spent months dismissing my claims that Jasper Whitlock was crazy about her.

It was after midnight when we got back to her place; Alice jumped in the shower while I went ahead and got into my pajamas. I logged on to her computer to check my regular sites and when she found me ten minutes later, I was exactly as I'd been the week before. My hand trembled slightly as I angled the flat screen towards her.

_Edward added you as a friend on Facebook. We need to confirm that you know Edward in order for you to be friends on Facebook._

That enigmatic fuck had friended me _again_.

"Why is he doing this?"

My voice was a whisper, and I asked as if Alice knew the answer.

"There's only one way you'll know for sure."

This time, I didn't stop her as she reached for the mouse to hit "Confirm".

* * * * *

**EPOV**

I grabbed a bowl, some milk, and the Cap'n Crunch, and toted them up to my room. Jazz and Em had just gone home, and, at 1:30AM, I had the munchies. I settled at my desk to surf my regular sites—I'd not had a turn with my own computer in hours, what with Emmett's greedy consumption of what Rosalie forbade him. The few glances I stole throughout the night found him viewing my Facebook inbox, cage fighting on YouTube, and some pretty freaky porn.

Going straight to Facebook, I figured I'd better assess the damage right away. It had taken me a few days this week to figure out that Emmett hadn't been a passive observer during last week's spree. Not only had he viewed some of the crazy ass messages I got from girls—he'd responded to a few of them.

I looked in my Sent Messages folder and was relieved to find nothing I hadn't written myself. Next was Wall-to-Wall. It looked like he'd snarked a few people on my behalf, but nothing too out of character. After reading a few status updates, I was about to move off of Facebook completely when my eyes caught something under Recent Activity:

_Edward and Bella Swan are now friends_

Wait…what? When had Bella friended me, and when had I accepted? It took me a minute to logic it through, but once I figured it out, I was livid.

"Son of a bitch!" I growled.

This time Emmett took things too fucking far.

* * * * *

**A/N** – Thanks for all the wonderful comments! This fic has gotten great response on as well as on .

**Question:** What would you do to punish _your_ Emmett?


	3. It's a Fire

**Author's Note:**

_**Naughty, naughty readers and your kinky Emmett fantasies. You all agreed that he needed to be punished, but, oh, the things you'd do to him!!**_

1. "Strip him naked and spank his ass!" (_**sherylb**_ didn't mince words, and many of you were lined up with your paddles)

2. "Come up with chores that require heavy lifting, i.e. holding up the couch so I could vacuum, etc. He'd have to do this topless of course, so I could ogle while he was flexing" (_**sconnolly318**_)

3. "It involves a blindfold, handcuffs and lots of hot fudge (mmm...) Don't act like you weren't thinking it!" (_**BrownEyedCynic**_)

3. "Punishing Em...(shakes head to get rid of naughty thoughts)...you really DON'T want to know ;)" (_**angstsmoker**_)

_**Others answered with what they thought Edward should do...**_

1. Any elaborate prank that would get him in big trouble with Rose (many of you liked this)

2. "A verbal lashing and a li'l bit of a girly punch" (_**kissyourself**_)

3. "Hack his Facebook account, change his relationship status to "engaged", have him take some girly *inner feeling* type quizzes, and add some raunchy photos to his profile" (_**beegurl13**_)

Thanks, as always to _**Gondolier**_ for her mad beta skills, and to _**helena_handbasket**_ for the updates!

**Chapter 3: It's a Fire**

_"It's a fire_

_These dreams they pass me by_

_This salvation I desire_

_Keeps getting me down_

_'Cos we need to recognize mistakes_

_For time and again_

_So let it be known for what we believe in_

_I can see no reason for it to fail..._

_'Cos this life is a farce_

_I can't breathe through this mask_

_Like a fool_

_So breathe on, little sister breathe on"_

_**- **_**Portishead,**_** "It's a Fire"**_

**EPOV**

After I called Emmett and tore him a new one, sleep was no longer an option. There was no place to go in this podunk town, I was maxed out on video games, the only shows on at two AM were infomercials, and my piano would wake up my parents.

Not that I really wanted to do any of those things, anyway. In the solitude of my room there was no point in denying that I was desperate to know Isabella Swan. Sure, Emmett had it coming for pimping me out on Facebook. But some secret part of me cheered his interference, despite the resulting mess.

His overture had stayed true to the Edward Cullen persona—abrupt, impersonal, maybe a little cocky. Only he and Jazz knew how greatly my assholery had been exaggerated, how little of who people saw was really me.

At school, the girls called me "Sexward", a nickname from freshman year when I was caught in flagrante delicto with the Homecoming Queen. Not only did that little stunt secure my status as a sex god, it sent the stock of everyone who knew me soaring. By sophomore year, Jasper, Emmett and I were among the most popular kids in school. Some seniors even took us under their wings to teach us how to mack. It was fun for awhile, but I was over it. Not that me changing had changed anyone's view of me. People still cast me as the horny little rich boy and I still stood by and let them.

And, my apathy _had _suited me well. I welcomed the pictures they painted of me with their vapid and vain-colored brushes. Girls objectified me. Guys were jealous. And teachers gave undue favor. They made it easier to be a misanthropic prick, to ride high school out with Jazz and Em and pray to start over in college. There was plenty in Forks I wanted to leave behind me. I'd move as far away as it took.

But I'd never planned on liking a girl. I'd never planned on Isabella Swan.

I barely knew anything about her—only that she was different. She wasn't inclined to dress or act like the many paper dolls at Forks High. Alice Brandon was another original, and it was a good sign they were friends. She loved that crappy truck she drove. My stolen glances at her iPod screen revealed Lovage and The Magnetic Fields (none of that Lady Gaga crap). And, she smelled fantastic.

I clicked on her name and it took me to her page. Did I mention she was kind of beautiful? In her profile picture, her hair was down, soft, wavy locks cascading over one shoulder. Her cheeks flushed pink on her heart-shaped face, their apples the same dusty rose as her lips. She wore a simple deep blue tee, its neckline low enough to show a positively lickable collarbone. And, her eyes—those deep brown pools of mystery—pinned me with an emotion I could not identify.

_Goddamn._

Ignoring her stats and whatever was written on her wall, I dove straight into photos. The profile picture was the only one she herself had posted, but she was tagged in at least a dozen others. At school, I could barely steal tiny glances, but the novelty of staring as long as I wanted found me _feasting_ on what I saw: Bella in cutoffs and a white halter, laughing with friends; Bella on the beach at a bonfire, her tiny frame tucked under the arm of a big, older-looking boy; Bella posing with a woman whose likeness was so strong, she had to be her mother; Bella holding a guitar in the desert.

Every photo revealed something new and fascinating about this girl—something that deepened my ache to know her. But I didn't have a clue as to how. Because, despite my clever disguise, the real me was not smooth. Nor did I know how to have authentic conversations with girls. And for some unknown reason, she wanted to be friends with me, as if she knew who I was and what that meant. As if I did.

* * * * *

**BPOV – The Next Day**

I felt pathetic as I switched out of the Word doc that held my history essay, clicking into Internet Explorer so I could refresh my Facebook page. Again. I don't know what I'd expected from my acceptance of his friend request, though a private message, an IM, or something written on my wall seemed unlikely, given the way he ignored me in Bio.

_Not any less likely than the friend request, Bella…_

Awesome—I was talking to myself again. And I was beginning to sound like Alice.

I had tried to cast him as the "pretentious prince", to reduce him to a teen movie caricature of the gorgeous, conceited, rich boy who was shallower than a kiddie pool. In such a scenario, I'd be his plaything—the cute little girl he'd slum with on the side once he was bored with his tall, blond, knock-out of a girlfriend. He'd expect me to be flattered that someone so inherently divine would give a second glance to someone so hopelessly mundane. He'd only need to string me along briefly to make me believe we were friends, would only need to take me on one sorry excuse for a date before he'd flash me a panty-dropping smile and achieve just that—a quickie in the backseat of his car and the silent treatment from there to eternity.

But part of me believed he wasn't _that guy_. The same part that knew my laundry list of inadequacies didn't make me _that girl_.

I'd secretly watched him ever since our first bizarre interaction in Bio. If he were really _that guy_, he'd have ignored me completely, never deigning to waste even an ounce of his perfection on me. Yet, he hadn't ignored me—he'd stared me down, observing, but not speaking, with fire in his eyes. He'd cut class for awhile, returning days later, his behavior still perplexing. He was distant, but cordial, only speaking to me when necessary, yet without a whit of the condescension _that guy_ would surely display.

His looks were devastating, but I'd never seen him use them. That he flashed stunning smiles, ran deliberate fingers through strategically tousled hair, and spoke in silken voices for an adoring public didn't resonate. The Edward I watched neither flirted nor enjoyed being flirted with, and seemed genuinely disgusted by the Forks High hags.

He listening to music obsessively—in his car, in the library, and even tucked away in random nooks and crannies around school. And it was more than just having his headphones on while he studied, or waited, or lounged. I'd caught him hanging outside of classroom doors as the bell rang, staying with his music until the song ended, heedless of being late.

But just because he defied part of the stereotype didn't mean he defied enough. As much as I'd sensed his humanity, I'd also seen unjustified cockiness and shameless displays of wealth. I had to face it—just because I could deduct things about who he wasn't didn't mean I knew who he was. And, regardless of my far-fetched explanations, he'd flouted the cardinal rule of high school social order by friending me, a fact that could not be ignored.

A new screen flashed before me as my home page reloaded. Nothing. But when I clicked over to Recent Updates, I found an update from him, written seven minutes ago:

_**Edward Cullen cannot find the candle of thought to light your name**_

I read it twice. Three times. It was nothing like any of the last dozen status updates he wrote (yes, I am a cyber-stalker who combed through every inch of his profile). His older ones were all "_Edward Cullen is kicking shit-talkers' asses at Guitar Hero_" and "_Edward Cullen is studiously ignoring his homework._" I wanted to dismiss this strange message as random, but some part of me thought otherwise.

For minutes I sat, trying not to overanalyze the fact that the only things that had changed on his profile in the past few days were the cryptic nature of his updates and becoming friends with me, but I couldn't stop myself from wondering. Was he speaking to me? Could he possibly be speaking to me?

* * * * *

**Chapter End Notes:**

Don't throw tomatoes for E and B's self-absorptive overanalysis in this chapter. You remember what it was like to be a teenager!

In the meantime, can anybody guess what Edward's quote means?


	4. Elderly Woman behind the Counter in a

**Author's Note:**

Many thanks to all for reading, reviewing, and sharing your crazy Facebook stories! Muchissimas gracias, como siempre, to my literary beta, **Gondolier**, and to my Twilighted beta, **helena_handbasket**!

* * * * *

**Chapter 4: Elderly Woman behind the Counter in a Small Town**

**EPOV**

Emmett had the good sense to look sheepish as he stepped into my car on Monday. Between giving him the silent treatment for the entire weekend and our stilted conversation on the way to Jasper's, he'd gotten the message loud and clear. I felt slightly guilty for letting him suffer, but he had to know I was serious about him backing off. His heart was pure and his intentions were good, but there were things even he didn't know.

We took our places in the parking lot--cars near the main doors with Jazz and I leaning against the back of my C30 and Emmet bent over Rosie's red M3. Ostensibly, we were just early for class—enjoying our freedom until the five-minute bell rang. The truth was, Jasper never went inside 'till he'd laid eyes on Alice, and we still had a few minutes to wait.

Being with Jazz was always easy—the man only had three quiet moods. Intense Jasper was reserved for war games and Alice. Calm Jasper was the norm, a perfect counter balance to Emmett's and my extremes. And Droll Jasper—who didn't come around nearly enough—was my favorite.

"Looks like you got Emmett more nervous 'n a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin' chairs…"

His Texas twang was so good you'd think he grew up there instead of just spending summers with his grandma.

"Isn't it a little early in the day for south mouth?" I asked in haughty English that was just as embellished as his drawl.

After my oddly-spent weekend, the small smile that cracked through my stern façade felt good.

"Too early?" He raised an eyebrow. "Boy, I'm as country as a bowl o' grits…"

By then, he was smiling slightly too, and my anxiety over Emmett's prank and the Bella debacle was melting away. We stood in companionable silence for a few moments before I launched into the story.

"Bella Swan and I are friends on Facebook."

Jasper's voice returned to its natural accent and register.

"Since when?"

He must've been surprised to rip his eyes from the driveway long enough to shoot me a curious glance.

"Since Emmett friended her from my account."

This time, the annoyance in my voice wasn't fake. His eyes widened momentarily before returning to the road to scan for the yellow Porsche.

"What are you gonna—"

He stopped short the moment he saw Alice, the surprise in his eyes replaced by the requisite stare of longing and sharp intake of breath. I was also rather preoccupied, given the circumstances. Instead of chancing a glance in the direction of Alice and her companion, I changed our conversation topic and set my gaze out into the distance. The five-minute bell sounded, and students walked past us, up the steps, and into the main door. Judging by the pounding of my heart as I realized my new "friend" would be passing soon, I'd been wise not to trust myself to look.

"Morning, Jasper," I heard Alice say shyly, leaving a slack-jawed Jasper in her wake.

I looked up in shock at the unprecedented greeting, inadvertently catching the last glimmer of her Jasper-focused smile as she turned to walk inside. Bella, for her part, was looking at me, her cheeks beautifully flushed and her eyes warm as she switched her gaze first to Alice, then to Jasper, before turning and following her friend. Jasper's hand and half of his body weight fell against my arm for support.

"She spoke to me…" he said with wonder, his eyes suddenly bright with hope as he watched her disappear through the doors.

He turned is eyes to mine.

"Dude, did you see that? She spoke to me!"

Emmett and Rose were suddenly next to us, supplying enough congratulatory snark to relieve me of the pressure to answer. But my pleasure at being smiled upon by Bella was short-lived as a sickening possibility dawned—what if Bella hadn't accepted my friend request because she wanted to be friends with me? What if she was just playing matchmaker and was engaging me—wingman to wingman—in a plan to help our friends? Fuck! What if Bella had no interest in me at all? What if this was all to help Jasper and Alice?!

* * * * *

**BPOV**

Thank God Alice suggested cutting for lunch. She claimed that after the "good morning" victory with Jasper, she didn't want to run into him at school for fear of being overexposed. I listened good-naturedly over a personal pan pizza as she dreamily relived the look in his eyes and his answering smile to her call. Alice had spent half the weekend thinking she was pep-talking me into letting something grow with Edward. If you ask me, she'd been building her own confidence to finally make a move on Jasper.

Alice prattled on, on our way back to school, as I thought ahead to what would happen in Bio. I'd insisted all weekend that I would make no move, and that no, I didn't have a thing for Edward. But I fiddled with my hoodie as I walked to class, my hands working at the zipper with indecision. It had taken me 'till Sunday, but I figured out his cryptic post—it was from an old Pearl Jam song—"_Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town_". I used to love Pearl Jam, and my worn CD was even at Charlie's house, some leftover from a summer long gone. I put it on repeat, and tried to piece together what he had been thinking with that post.

I'd always gotten the sense that there was something mysterious, and sad, about Edward. But, these lyrics spoke of longing, of restless nostalgia for something or someone that was long gone or maybe never was there at all. When he'd made that posting, he must have been in a particularly maudlin mood. I still didn't believe he'd written it for me, but nothing could quell my intrigue. I'd always been a sucker for dark, tortured men, and these lyrics were definitely tortured.

But there was one part of the song I couldn't let go, couldn't get out of my head…

_I just want to scream...hello..._

_My God its been so long, never dreamed you'd return_

_But now here you are, and here I am_

_Hearts and thoughts, they fade away_

…that niggling hunch was the reason why I was toying with my hoodie. Because, maybe it had been a call. Maybe it had been for me. And, even if that chance was remote, I knew I had to put myself on the line to answer.

"Hey…" he mumbled, barely looking at me as I slid into my chair.

"Hey," I offered.

It was two words more than we usually shared.

Mr. Banner launched into his lecture, which I was too preoccupied to hear. I must've zoned out overthinking the whole thing because the next thing I knew, people were packing up their books.

I sprung out of my chair, mindless that my hoodie was unzipped, and suddenly Edward's eyes were glued to my chest. He recovered quickly, mumbling a goodbye before hastening out the door.

_He saw it_, I realized, with creeping doubt about my plan, _He saw my Pearl Jam "Vs." t-shirt_.

It wasn't supposed to happen like that. I'd hoped it would be a conversation-starter, or at least that we would share a knowing glance, like in the movies, but this was far worse. From the flash in his eyes, I knew he recognized my shirt for what it was, but whatever his conclusion, it made him run.

I zombied through the rest of the day—through class, then homework, then dinner for Charlie and me. I took a long, hot bath, and distracted myself with some Cormac McCarthy (no love stories tonight), and by ten-thirty, I was ready to rip off the Band Aid.

When I logged onto my Facebook, I braced myself for his update, certain it would read something like _Edward Cullen's lab partner is stalking him_ or _Edward Cullen just put out a restraining order on Bella Swan_. Or, maybe the ultimate slap in the face—an un-friend. Yet, he had not updated his status, and he still appeared on my friend list, and because I was already going to hell, I clicked on his profile to see his recent activity.

_**Edward Cullen became a fan of Pearl Jam.**_

Fuck. Me.

* * * * *

**Chapter End Notes:  
**

Kudos to the small handful of reviewers who correctly guessed the origin of Edward's update! If you aren't familiar with the song, it's worth the $1.29 to download it from iTunes. It's Pearl Jam's "Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town"

Speaking of songs and bands…which song or band best embodies the Bella/Edward relationship?


	5. The Way

**A/N: ** Thanks to all those who have stepped forward to review. I know we (authors) all say it, but it really keeps us motivated and makes our day to hear, even briefly, that folks like what we're writing. I've received some feedback (*cough*: complaints) that my chapters are too short, so this one is about twice as long as average. I hope you enjoy!

As for updates, the next one won't be for at least a week, maybe longer. I am going to culinary boot camp for the next week, and will be out of pocket. If you're bored, check out my other fic, The Art of Worship. I just posted the second chapter, and I rather like it :)

And, thanks always to my beta Gondolier, without whom my fic would surely suck.

*** * * * ***

**Chapter 5: The Way**

_They made up their minds_

_And they started packing_

_They left before the sun came up that day_

_An exit to eternal summer slacking_

_But where were they going without ever knowing the way?_

**-Fastball, "**_**The Way**_**"**

**EPOV**

She fucking got it. Bella got the Pearl Jam reference. I'd spent half the weekend figuring out how to scare her off, but she'd treated my danger warning like a beacon. The dark, pained song lyrics were intended to be both obscure and slightly frightening, to make her forget whatever compelled her to accept the friend request and to show her a side of me that would send a nice girl like her running. But she hadn't run--she'd come unfathomably closer. The recognition in her eyes and the gorgeous blush on her cheeks when she saw me notice her shirt proved at least that.

I knew it had been extreme, and presumptuous, to think she was taking this as seriously as I was, but the fact that I got so unhinged just from thinking about her only strengthened my resolve to keep a safe distance. By Sunday morning I'd formulated the plan; by midday I'd picked out the song and posted the update; judging by the silence of my usual stalkers on Sunday afternoon and evening I was pleased to believe it was scaring off more than just Bella. And when she hadn't un-friended me by 7AM on Monday, I figured I might get away with admiring her from afar.

But, now everything was different. Now, she'd seen right through me and held out her hand. Now, Alice and Jasper were that much closer to starting something that would make it hard for me to avoid Bella. Now, I was more drawn to her, not less. Now, I had a decision to make: step back or step forward? And it took me all night to decide.

Of course, Emmett was the first one to write on my wall…

_Emmett McCarty -- Edward Cullen: Really, dude…Pearl Jam?_

I rolled my eyes as I clicked on the link that would start a new, prominently displayed thread on his wall.

_Edward Cullen -- Emmett McCarty: You left your Spice Girls CD in my car. Again._

I logged off then, for no other reason than because obsessing over her possible reaction was the surest way to insanity. A hot shower, a fruitless tinker on my piano, and a lengthy session with my trusty companion, iTunes, were fitting distractions. By eleven-thirty, I had crafted a new playlist called "Beautiful", and couldn't resist logging on to Facebook one final time before letting the music lull me to sleep. I felt immediate giddiness at seeing her name and wondered when I'd turned into such a girl.

_Bella Swan – What song are you listening to?_

Instead of a status update, she'd posed a question, one a few people had already commented on.

_Alice Brandon – Toni Basil: "Mickey"_

_Angela Weber – Suzanne Vega: "Tom's Diner"_

_Renee Dwyer – does Phil's snoring count as a song?_

_Jasper Whitlock – Waylon Jennings: "Mommas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys"_

Now Bella and Jasper were friends? Yeesh…

_Mike Newton -- Forget about me; what are you listening to, beautiful?_

Ignoring Newton's cheap flirtation, I contemplated making something up—fabricating a song that would make me seem cool—but quickly changed my mind. Not only did I have no idea what would ingratiate me to her, I'd spent the greater part of the evening deciding, for once, to be real. I typed the name of the first song on her playlist…

_Edward Cullen – The Cure: "Pictures of You"_

…and when I saw it pop up on the screen at the same time the music and lyrics embraced me in Surround Sound, I knew I was already fucking gone.

* * * * *

**BPOV – the next morning (Tuesday)**

I chewed my lip and wrung my hands, acutely aware of the time. Alice's Porsche would soon tear down the street, and a decision had to be made. For the third time in as many days, it seemed that my existence could tilt and tumble by baring my soul, one status update at a time. However withering _that_ thought was, my sense of self-preservation was waning.

I had no one to blame but myself for my predicament, of course—I'd thrown out _"What song are you listening to?"_ as bait. I'd made it seem casual—like it was a fun little question meant for all my friends to answer—but I knew better, and his response (seriously, "Pictures of You"? Have you ever listened to that song?) made me wonder just like the first time: did we both happen to love deliciously dark music, or was he speaking directly to me?

Mike kicking the question back to me gave me the unexpected opportunity to show Edward my hand. My answering message was chosen, mouse arrow poised to send, and my pride nowhere to be found. Alice's car horn prompted me into action. Before I could think too hard about laying myself open for all the world to see, I pressed send.

_Bella Swan—Mazzy Star: "Fade Into You"_

Edward Cullen had me so upside-down, I was barely coherent as I walked down the stairs and climbed into Alice's car. I awoke from my daze to find her not driving us to school, but looking at me expectantly.

"Well?" she exclaimed exasperatedly.

"Well, what?" I asked warily. With her, it could be anything.

"Were you ever going to tell me about your _extracurricular activities_ on Facebook?"

I was too busy being horrified to fashion a response or wipe the deer-in-the-headlights look off of my face.

"Or were you thinking I'd just piece it together on my own?"

Oh, God. If Alice had figured it out, maybe everyone else had. _What must people think of me? _

"It's only been a day…" I stammered weakly, crestfallen that I'd been so obvious. "I didn't think—"

"Didn't think what?" she demanded. "Didn't think I could use an hour or two to pick out a cuter profile picture? Didn't think I might think twice before leading him to believe I spend Monday nights at home listening to 80's music?"

_What?_

"Bella…" she whined miserably, "…how could you not tell me you and Jasper became friends?! Now he can see everything I've ever written on your profile!"

Oh, _thank fuck_. She was upset about Jasper.

"Do you think he thinks I'm a freak?"

Her tone changed on a dime from admonishment to fear as she handed me her one insecurity.

"Sometimes he gives me these weird looks, like I creep him out or something…"

"Alice…" I chided gently, slipping into best friend mode, "Jasper _does not_ think you are a freak. You have to know he only friended me to get closer to you. Has it occurred to you that Edward friending me out of the blue was just a roundabout way for that to happen? Or that Jasper only acts weird because he likes you so much, and being around you makes him self-conscious? It's basic kindergarten psychology, sweetie…you're lucky he doesn't drop sand down your shirt and pull your hair."

Her look of bafflement almost made my theory about Edward's motives sting a little less.

"Oh."

She stared through her windshield, out toward the road, as if she were trying to work something out in her head.

"Besides," I continued, "if anyone's a freak, it's him, the way he won't even talk to you but waits for you every morning before school."

She blushed slightly and we shared a knowing smile that seemed to quell her doubts. It was good to see her finally start to accept the painfully obvious.

"So, step on it, bitch, or you're gonna miss your welcome party."

She giggled softly and did just that and I smiled at my luck at having this crazy girl's friendship. I felt slightly guilty for riding her Jasper high to deflect attention from the Edward situation, but was glad she had started to lay off. I could barely explain what was happening myself, much less explain it to anybody else.

His car wasn't in the lot as we pulled in, but Jasper was by Emmett's Jeep. Jasper sported his requisite mixture of fear and reverence that only surfaced around Alice, murmuring his own hopeful "good morning" as we passed, and holding the door for us as we walked inside. It would've been cute to watch their dance if Edward wasn't MIA.

I spent the morning contriving the confidence to acknowledge him in Bio, but my courage was censured by his aloof discomfort. My smile faded the instant I saw his sickened look. I felt stupid and naïve when deafening silence replaced yesterday's hello.

I passed the hour wallowing in insecurity, wading through his schizophrenic behavior and drowning in my original doubts about his motives. I was dying to bolt, to find some deserted space in the school where I could pull off my game face and lick my wounds. When he slid a fitted enveloped across the table at me as the bell rang, and shot out of the room in hasty retreat, I was more puzzled—and more angry—than ever.

I did go find a hiding place, then—a spot behind the gym building where no one ever went. I was sure that, by now, smoke was shooting out of my ears and I didn't want anyone to see how unraveled I was by…

"That enigmatic fuck!" I seethed aloud.

By the time I stopped pacing like a caged animal, and calmed down enough to think halfway straight, I turned my attention back to the envelope. Over and over, I turned it in my hand, as if to divine its contents through handling it.

_Who the hell does he think he is, avoiding me like the plague and then passing me a fucking CD? _

_Does he get some cheap thrill out of playing with people? Out of luring tenderhearted girls with faux emo bullshit, just so he can mess with their minds?_

_Who does shit like this?!_

Once I abandoned futile speculation about why Edward Cullen would barely utter a word to me, why he favored cryptic communications and undercover exchanges, I unsheathed a sleek silver-faced CD flourished with elegant green writing.

_**Mazzy Star**_

"_**Fade Into You"**_

_**Live at the Bridge School Concert**_

I narrowed my eyes, willing myself to stay angry at a gesture that should have sent off more warning bells.

"I hate you, Edward Cullen," I growled quietly.

But as I spoke the words the sensible part of me thought I should feel, the larger part of me laughed at the lie.

* * * * *

**EPOV (earlier that morning)**

"Yo, Em," I said distractedly when he answered his cell.

"What up, E-dawg?" he bellowed cheerfully.

The Spice Girls comment was less than twelve hours old, and any other friend would've given me guff. That was one thing I definitely loved about Emmett—he really knew how to take things in stride.

"Can you swing by Jazz's place and take him to school? I'm tied up at home for awhile."

"No worries, man…everything alright?"

"Everything's fine. Something came up and I'm just…running late."

I was scrolling through my iTunes library even as I spoke, some blind sense of purpose in control of my actions. I mumbled an absent goodbye to Emmett as my eyes continued to scan. By the time I stopped to think about what I was doing, my computer was almost done burning the CD. I must've been out of it not to have heard my mom come in.

"Listening to music at…8AM?" she asked with her peaceful voice and a glance at the clock. "Shouldn't you be headed to school?"

"Just throwing my music comp homework on a CD."

When the computer tray opened to signal the dub was complete, I slid the finished disc into an envelope, stuck a green sharpie in my pocket, leaned over to kiss my mother and rushed out the door.

It burned a hole in my messenger bag all fucking day, and when she flashed me a blushing smile as she slid into her seat next to me, I wasn't sure I could go through with giving it to her. I spent the class as I always did—feigning impassivity throughout Mr. Banner's lecture while studying her through my peripheral vision, clandestinely drinking her in.

Though we'd spoken no words, it was clear things had shifted, our brief exchanges now holding some palpable quality. But, doing what I'd planned would produce physical evidence of our connection, an idea that scared the piss out of me. At some point, I realized the bell was going to ring, and I gathered the courage to do it. As casually as I could, I slipped her the disc, before disappearing from the room.

After school, I headed to my volunteer gig, glad to kill a few hours at the hospital before reprising my stalker role at home. Hours later, after dinner with my parents and an uncommonly lengthy session with my piano, I ventured upstairs to the bat cave. The grin that arose when my eyes fell to her update was unstoppable.

_Bella Swan has it on repeat_

* * * * *

**BPOV**

I hated myself for being so eager, but by the end of seventh period, I'd convinced Alice to cut. I didn't have a laptop to play it on, or a car with a CD player, and given my desire for privacy, I needed to get home. I dropped my stuff inside my door, shot up to my room, threw the CD in the drive on my desktop and flopped down onto my bed. I'd seen a few live performances of the song on You Tube, but this version was…unbelievable. I listened to it over and over, each play soothing my anger with him like a salve.

_It was a sweet gesture_, I told myself now.

_He must love this song too, to have a version like this._

_Maybe he can't talk to me because he's shy._

How quickly I had changed my tune.

I didn't even think about dinner until Charlie popped his head in my room. His presence startled me, and I shot upright in embarrassment, as if I had been caught doing something wrong.

"The diner?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I nodded wordlessly.

"Five minutes," he said, closing my door again.

I agonized less over updating my status this time, some part of me knowing I had surrendered to playing this out, no matter how sick the game.

_Bella swan has it on repeat_

I tried to maintain a façade of normalcy as I ate with my dad at the diner. I daydreamed my way through a warm bath once I got home. I was proud of myself for staving off the impulse to check my account multiple times until I got into bed, but even I wasn't strong enough not to check once before I went to sleep.

I smiled at the first one…

_Alice Brandon and Jasper Whitlock are now friends_

…rolled my eyes at the second…

_Mike Newton – Looks like I picked the wrong day to quit drinking_

…said a mental "no" to the third…

_Jacob Black has an extra ticket to the Seattle Car Show on Saturday. Any takers? Bueller…Bueller?_

…and felt vindicated by the fourth.

_Edward Cullen -- What cover song is better than the original?_

His update proved, perhaps for the first time, that he was speaking—not just responding—to me (though it still annoyed the hell out of me that he was so skittish in person and so blatant online). However encouraged I was by this gesture, I still refused to accept the hypotheses I'd considered while looping the song; and I definitely couldn't entertain that what I'd pointed out to Alice that morning could possibly hold true for me. Diligently avoiding thoughts of ponytails being tugged and sand down my shirt, I typed in the name of my favorite cover.

* * * * *

**Chapter End Notes:**

What cover song do you think is better than the original?


	6. Hallelujah

**A/N: ** WOW! I got over 130 reviews on Chapter 5 alone between Twilighted and Fanfiction last week. Though I haven't had time to respond to all of them, please know that each and every one is cherished.

Also much appreciated is your _**fuckawesome**_ taste in music! I would have had this chapter out a lot sooner had I not spent most of last week on iTunes and YouTube listening to all of your favorite covers (speaking of which, if you have some time on your hands, you may want to read over the Chapter 5 reviews—tons of great music mentioned there).

As ever, I am thankful to my beta _**Gondolier**_ (the green iPod in this chappie is dedicated to her) and my silver-penned RL namesake, _**Helena_Handbasket**_! A final dedication goes to _**Sassenach Wench**_: the shiny red apple's for you :)

Also, I am on Twitter more these days and am going to start submitting teasers, etc. Follow me at TheGreenPuma

*** * * * ***

**Chapter 6 – Hallelujah**

_Well, your faith was strong but you needed proof._

_You saw her bathing on the roof._

_Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew ya'._

_She tied you to her kitchen chair, _

_she broke your throne and she cut your hair,_

_and from your lips she drew the hallelujah._

_Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah_

_**-"Hallelujah" (my favorite version) by Jeff Buckley; original by Leonard Cohen**_

**EPOV (Still Tuesday Night)**

My parents looked (rightfully) suspicious when I practically skipped into the kitchen later that night, the polar opposite of their resigned, fretful son who had barely choked down dinner an hour before. I hummed lightly as I helped myself to a bounty of strawberry ice cream, too elated over Bella's reaction to find the will to care. I kissed my mom on the cheek, squeezed my dad's shoulder, chirped a goodnight and (I'm ashamed to admit) flitted upstairs.

I was maniacally thrilled by her status update, not least of all by the spirit of the message but also by the message itself.

_**Bella Swan has it on repeat**_

And I _just knew_ she did. I pictured what her bedroom in the chief's little white house must be like, imagined what expression would be on her face and the thoughts in her mind as she listened to the rare recording of a song that had possessed me dozens of times over. I put it on myself after I read her post, sprawling out on my bed and staring at the ceiling, wondering whether listening to the same song at the same time made us cosmically joined. When I closed my eyes, I pictured her next to me, our fingers intertwined as we found each other in the music.

It was shoddy logic, but her approval of my music felt like an approval of _me_. Music was the one thing I really cared about, that I protected jealously, the only thing I had never defiled with pretense or front. Even the Pearl Jam song, though I'd used it questionably, was an authentic self-expression. No woman had ever tried to relate to me on this level, much less understood it was the only language I really spoke. Yet, she did. And she wanted to speak it with me.

Needing to hear her, I settled back in front of my computer, some time having passed since I'd asked the cover song question.

_**Edward Cullen – What cover song is better than the original?**_

I could see already the reply list was long, which meant those stalker bitches were back in full force.

_**Lauren Mallory – The Mr. Big version of "Wild World"**_

I scoffed. Like hell it was.

_**Jessica Stanley – Luna's cover of G 'n R: "Sweet Child of Mine"**_

_That_ emo bullshit?

_**Tanya Denali – Tesla version of "Signs" (better than Five Man Electrical Band)**_

I loved my cousin Tanya, but that girl had always been delusional.

_**Emmett McCarty – The original is always better**_

Et tu, Emmett? Not only did nobody I know seem to have any taste in music—after four responses and no Bella I was starting to get antsy about whether she'd replied.

_**Jasper Whitlock – Always? Three words, son: Johnny Cash—"Hurt"**_

A wave of calm crashed over me when I read Jasper's post. _Finally, a good cover_, I thought in relief.

_**Rosalie Hale – Jasper's right—what about The Clash doing "I Fought the Law"?**_

_**Emmett McCarty – You gotta do better than that, babe**_

_**Rosalie Hale – Concrete Blonde: "Everybody Knows" **_

I liked the Leonard Cohen version better, but I kept my mouth shut. Emmett needed to be schooled.

_**Kate Denali – The Goops' punk version of "Build Me Up Buttercup"**_

Fuck, yeah.

_**Aro Volturi – Marilyn Manson's "Sweet Dreams"**_

_**Emmett McCarty – No, no, and you scare me, dude**_

I snorted around a mouthful of ice cream.

_**Victoria James – Pearl Jam: "Last Kiss"**_

Ass-kicking cover, but Victoria creeps me out.

_**Bella Swan – Jeff Buckley – "Hallelujah"**_

I stopped breathing—and not just because Bella had answered—because Jeff Buckley was _my favorite fucking artist_, and that song was _made_ for him.

_**Emmett McCarty – Bella: Touché**_

Still floored, I opened my chat window and fired off an impulsive message.

_**Edward Cullen: Fucking fantastic song. **_

I second-guessed myself the moment I pressed send and for the long three minutes that passed before I got a response. Instead of calming when I heard the little chime that signaled her answer, my heart beat faster.

_**Bella Swan: Out of all the people who have covered it since, JB's is by far the best, IMO**_

I hadn't thought past my opening line, and spent a panicked moment reaching for something intelligent to say. She surprised me by continuing straightaway, as if chatting with me were the easiest thing in the world.

_**Bella Swan: I always wondered, though, why he left out LC's last two verses--they really change the meaning of the song…**_

Not only did she have taste--this girl knew her music. I fought the urge to pepper her with all the questions that had been plaguing my mind, and concentrated hard on sounding normal.

_**Edward Cullen: I'll bet the studio execs made him shorten it up. Maybe you could find a concert version where he goes all out?**_

_**Bella Swan: Speaking of, thanks for Mazzy Star—it's a great recording**_

_NormalNormalNormalNormalNormalNormal…_

_**Edward Cullen: My pleasure**_

There was a lull in the conversation and I scolded myself again to _think, damn it_!

_**Bella Swan: So, I guess I'll see you in class tomorrow?**_

I wilted a little. _Too slow_.

_**Edward Cullen: Sure thing**_

_I had "Good night, Bella" typed and ready to go when her next message came up._

_**Bella Swan: Maybe then you'll tell me your favorite cover…I'm not the only one with good taste in music**_

My face flushed deeply at the compliment and I imagined I looked like her for a moment, though not nearly as cute

_**Edward Cullen: Maybe…**_

I bit my lip against a shit-eating grin.

_**Edward Cullen: Good night, Bella**_

_**Bella Swan: Good night, Edward**_

* * * * *

**BPOV (Wednesday)**

My face tilted skyward and a smile found my lips as the Pacific Northwest sun kissed my starved shoulders. The rarely-used quad was buzzing with students enjoying the same thing as me. I had chosen a picnic table off to the side, and was listening to my iPod. I'd shed my hoodie and donned only my little wifebeater. Shy girl Bella was nowhere to be found when something like sun was at stake. Ignoring the chill in the air, I kept myself warm with Air's "_Sexy Boy_". Everything was bliss until a shadow crossed my path and my music abruptly stopped.

"Motherf—" I started to mutter.

I opened my eyes to see the retreating form of none other than Edward Cullen. When I caught a faint waft of his scent, my eyelids fluttered. Remembering myself, I glanced down at the table, and gaped at what I saw. My iPod Nano had been stealthily replaced by a little green iPod Shuffle. Somehow, he'd managed to disconnect my player and attach my earphones to his, all before I opened my eyes.

I snapped my eyes back up towards him and I leveled what I hope came off as a glare. He now leaned with his back against a far wall, one knee bent and foot bracing the brick as he palmed my silver iPod Nano, too busy smirking to notice my scowl as he shuffled through my music.

_That infuriating, brilliant bastard!_

I unlocked the Shuffle, hit the tiny play button, and resumed my prior stance with as much disinterest as possible. I couldn't let him see how he unraveled me, how ravenous I was for anything he gave. A familiar folk guitar that I couldn't immediately place eased me into a song I didn't quite recognize but somehow remembered I loved.

_Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waitin' for a train_

_And I's feelin' near as faded as my jeans…_

Edward's favorite cover song was the Janis Joplin version of "_Me and Bobby McGee_"? The same Janis Joplin whose bluesy voice had crooned intensely to me despite ancient speakers and the scratches and flaws in Renee's old vinyl? I was the one who had begged her to get rid of it—to step into the 21st century and buy a CD player for the living room, just like everyone else had. I thought of Jefferson Airplane, and Tom Petty, and all the other bands I'd missed out on since we packed away our old LPs.

_Damn, I forgot how good this song was…_

I resisted the urge to open my mouth and sing along, settling instead for humming softly enough that no one heard. I figured he gave me just one, like last time, but things came together when the second (Joe Cocker's version of "A Little Help from My Friends"), third (Kate Bush's version of "Wild Horses"), and fourth (Placebo on "Running Up That Hill") played. And they weren't all studio versions, either—I'd never heard Tori Amos sing "Daniel" or Ann and Nancy Wilson do "The Battle of Evermore", and he had a cut of Joan Jett doing "Crimson and Clover" that was just…amazing.

This wasn't Edward throwing me tiny little morsels—this was…alright, I didn't know what it was, but he'd stolen my iPod and made me a fucking _playlist_. _That had, like, ten emo songs _on it. This was big.

I spent the rest of lunch in the same position, listening through the songs he gave me. The bell rang at the same time my stomach growled and I realized I'd daydreamed straight through lunch. Before I could come up with a plan for how to shove down enough food to avoid embarrassing myself in Bio, I saw something that hadn't been there before. On top of my books sat a perfect red apple.

I think we both know who left it.

* * * * *

**EPOV**

I grabbed the plate of cookies as I swept into the house, startling my mother as I tore up the steps, barely stopping to give her a kiss. Once in my room, I kicked off my shoes and flopped down onto my bed. I blew my hair out of my eyes as I reached into my pockets, eager for a thorough exploration of Bella's Nano.

I smiled at the memory of her flummoxed expression in Bio as she'd asked for her iPod back. I'd just kept my eyes forward and loosed a cocky smile as I slowly shook my head 'no'. She'd muttered a soft "_asshole_" under her breath, but I spied a tiny smile that belied her words. I pretended not to notice how she reached out to worry the little green Shuffle between her fingers several times during the class.

Scrolling through her music list at leisure now, I fell more than a little in love. Her collection had some of everything—from Paramore to Parliament, from Queen to Queensryche, from The Supremes to Sublime, from Beethoven to the Buena Vista Social Club. She had one hit wonders, and soundtracks, and bands I didn't recognize, but the few unfamiliar songs I listened to, I liked. She had the cutest little names for her playlists, things like "Groggy" and "Aggro" and "Low". Most amazing was her "Top 25 Most Played" list, which was full of songs I fucking loved.

_This girl is perfect_

The thought infiltrated my being, the chant of the mantra chipping away at my resolve with each repetition. Yet as intense as this _thing _was, we remained oddly estranged.

I had to do something about that.

I went to my computer and opened up iTunes, set to add some stuff she didn't have to her Nano. It was only 6PM—a little early for Facebook—but I'm obsessed, so I logged on anyway to troll my Recent Updates.

_**Alice Brandon added you as a friend on Facebook. We need to confirm that you know Alice in order for you to be friends on Facebook.**_

I hit "confirm" easily—that had only been a matter of time.

_**Marcus Volturi couldn't care less**_

_**Jasper Whitlock became a fan of Roller Derby**_

Kiss-ass.

_**Emmett McCarty will gladly pay you on Tuesday for a hamburger today**_

_**Amun Agra is skeptical**_

_**Bella Swan had better get her iPod back tomorrow**_

I chuckled out loud, and for the second time impulse-chatted her once I saw that she was still online.

_**Edward Cullen: Or, what?**_

This time, she hit me right back.

_**Bella Swan: How much do you like your car?**_

I snorted at her audacity, unable to remember when I'd last been threatened by a girl, and strangely flattered that she knew my Achilles heel.

_**Edward Cullen: I bring you music and an apple and this is how you repay me?**_

I realized, as I felt myself grinning, that I'd been doing a lot of that lately.

_**Bella Swan: The apple was the least you could do**_

_**Bella Swan: What do you want with my iPod, anyway?**_

_It's a key puzzle piece in my obsession to know everything about you._

_**Edward Cullen: It's collateral while you hold onto mine**_

Yeah. What I wrote was a lot less creepy.

_**Bella Swan: The Shuffle isn't even your real iPod—maybe you ought to let me hold on to that black Nano of yours**_

The thought was mildly terrifying. Showing her my iPod would mean showing her…everything.

_**Edward Cullen: Ha! Fat chance, Swan.**_

I ignored the significance of just having put her on a last name basis.

_**Bella Swan: Just watch your left pocket—that's all I'm saying…**_

I tried to quell the strange combination of lust and awakening that crashed over me. All her talk about holding my Nano and reaching into my pocket to grab my iPod was causing my body to react (Give me a break--I'm seventeen!), and the less reptilian side of my brain realized she'd not have known the color of my iPod or my habit of keeping it in my left pocket unless she'd paid attention.

_**Edward Cullen: Did you like the songs, at least? It seemed like you did, from the look on your face**_

_**Bella Swan: They were all great covers, but you still haven't answered my question—which one is your favorite?**_

I had to know what she thought of me, which was why I asked that she…

_**Edward Cullen: Guess**_

_**Bella Swan: (rolls eyes) Or, you could tell me…**_

However quiet and shy she was at school, the Bella I'd seen this week was so much more…_surly_. It scared and excited me in equal measure.

_**Edward Cullen: Best song is "Hallelujah" but best improvement on the original is "Mad World"**_

_**Bella Swan: (nods approvingly)**_

I fucking laughed. We spent what felt like just a few minutes but what I later realized had been an hour chatting about other covers, and other bands, we liked. I realized I'd been stalling on dinner for longer than I thought when I heard my dad's footsteps nearing the top of the stairs.

_**Edward Cullen: Uh-oh. Dinnertime.**_

_**Bella Swan: Fuck—I just looked at the clock! I need to get to dinner, too.**_

_I can't remember the last time I enjoyed talking to someone so much, Bella. I'm really starting to _like you_, like you. I'm kind of fucked up, but you make me want to be better. So, will you go out on a date with me?_

_**Edward Cullen: Good night, Swan**_

_**Bella Swan: Next time, Cullen**_

Tomorrow, I was going to talk to that girl.

* * * * *

**End Notes:** Here is the playlist Edward passed to Bella. Special thanks to EpisodeSkywalker, PrincessBella24, AliceJasperIsLove for introducing me to some new covers I didn't know about and for reminding me of other great ones. Too many of you mentioned Jeff Buckley, Kate Bush, and Placebo for me to go down the list, but thank you—it looks like we have good collective taste :) Oh, and if you haven't heard the Ann and Nancy Wilson version of "The Battle of Evermore", run—don't walk.

**Edward's Playlist for Bella**

Janis Joplin – "Me and Bobby McGee" (original: Roger Miller)

Joe Cocker – "A Little Help From My Friends" (original: The Beatles)

Kate Bush/The Sundays – "Wild Horses" (original: The Rolling Stones)

Joan Jett – "Crimson and Clover" (original: Tommy James and the Shondells )

Placebo – "Running Up That Hill" (original: Kate Bush)

Gary Jules – "Mad World" (original: Tears for Fears)

Lacuna Coil – "Enjoy the Silence" (original: Depeche Mode)

Ann and Nancy Wilson – "The Battle of Evermore" (original: Led Zeppelin )

Indigo Girls – "Romeo and Juliet" (original: Dire Straits

Tori Amos – "Daniel" (original: Elton John)

Jeff Buckley – "Hallelujah" (original: Leonard Cohen)

**And, a question for you:** What is the funniest or most memorable Facebook update you have ever written or seen?


	7. Counting on You

**A/N: **So many thanks for your responses to Chapter 6! There have been more comments than I am able to respond to, but I cannot say enough how I appreciate every one of them. One "problem" with the comments is that so many readers are leaving me music recommendations that I wish I could share with all of you. To address this, I've set up a discussion thread on Twilighted. If you want to talk about what's in your iPod and know what other Twilighters are listening to, check out the "**Facebook Friends: Behind the Music**" thread: www(dot)twilighted(dot)net/forum/viewtopic(dot)php?f=44&t=6763

Also, be sure to follow me on Twitter (handle is _**TheGreenPuma**_) in order to track the launch of my blog, "Diary of a Fic Fiend"

Everlasting gratitude to _**Gondolier**_ and _**Sassenach Wench**_ for beta-ing my chapters, and to _**Helena Handbasket**_ for her Twilighted beta!

* * * * *

**Chapter 7 – Counting on You**

_I want you to drive my El Dorado_

_I want you to fly my aeroplane._

_Oh, oh, oh, little girl don't misunderstand me._

_'Cause there's a rumor goin' 'round; _

_Somebody's gonna let me down._

_And I don't know what it's all about, or if it's true._

_I'm counting on you._

**-**_**Counting on You**_** by Tom Petty**

**BPOV (Thursday)**

I tried not to blush at Edward's slight bow as he opened the door for me the next morning. Alice and Jasper were flirting obscenely as the four of us walked into the school. Unsurprisingly, Edward didn't speak, which was probably just as well. His hair was still damp and his scent cascaded off of him in waves, and when I realized how freshly bathed he was, thoughts of water on his skin and the things that teenage boys do in the shower pretty much rendered me speechless.

I knew my inner klutz could strike at any time, so I focused on keeping my footing. It was a short walk to homeroom and the four of us stopped at the door.

"See you later, Alice," Jasper drawled in a hush.

"Bye, Jasper," Alice smiled coquettishly.

Both of them were grinning like idiots. I turned to Edward, expecting he'd be enjoying the show, but he was laser-focused on me. _I have plans for you_, his green eyes seemed to say, as a smirk played across his lips. It was the first time he'd ever regarded me directly. Its intensity tilted my world.

I wandered, dazed, into the room, and sank into my seat. I heard nothing—not roll call, not announcements, not the bell. I came to at Alice's nudge.

"Meet me at the usual place?"

I had no idea what she was asking.

"_For the pep rally_, Bella—weren't you listening?"

This, from a woman for whom, minutes before, nothing outside of Jasper existed.

"Uh, when is it?" I managed, running a hand through my hair.

"Right after lunch—they've cancelled sixth and seventh."

I wanted to whine like a petulant child: _"But sixth period is my class with Edward!" _Instead, I nodded at Alice and we agreed to meet near the trophy case outside of the gym.

By 9a.m., I was still annoyed that I would not be seeing Edward. By 10a.m., I was feeding an ornate fantasy of him kidnapping me from the pep rally, of us lying close on the football field listening to his iPod from the same set of little white ear buds. By 11a.m., I was chiding myself for having _ornate fantasies_ about Edward Cullen in so undignified a class as Trig. When, by lunch, my vision had morphed into us dry humping on said football field, I snapped myself guiltily out of fantasizing about him at all.

Sure, I was horny—I'd been in Forks for six fucking months with nary an eligible lay. In Phoenix, I'd gone the friends with benefits route with my neighbor, Jason. But here, I had no friends to have benefits with. It didn't help that Edward was sex incarnate, and was suddenly being nicer to me. It was easier to keep it in check when he'd been a complete asshole, but was it any wonder I lusted after him now?

_Take a number, Swan_, some insidious voice taunted.

My eyes slid across the cafeteria to where Jessica Stanley sat. I'd always been disgusted by her desperate advances toward Edward, branding her as foolish and insecure and weak. I'd spoken of her harshly—maybe even a little cruelly—during my gabs with Alice. It occurred to me now that trifling with Edward could turn me into a simpering wench if I didn't get a fucking grip.

_Had he seduced her with mix tapes?_, I wondered, not certain they'd even hooked up at all. Before I could mull over how Jessica got so obsessed with him, a flash of bronze invaded my vision. My traitorous lips curled up in a smile 'til I saw who he was with.

Slut number two was Victoria James, and her advances were bolder than Jess'. She'd draped her hand on his shoulder, with her forearm down his back, and she leaned in to whisper in his ear. Their backs were to me, so I couldn't see his face, but I noted how he didn't brush her off. God help me, but I was suddenly seething with anger at everything—at her, at him, at myself.

Was this my fate? To become one of his harem? His friend list on Facebook confirmed a sizeable herd.

_You cannot fall for Edward Cullen, _I admonished with forced resolve.

So we'd bantered on Facebook and liked a few of the same songs. So he made me a playlist—he was probably just bored.

_More like on the hunt for his next victim._

At that, I flew out of the lunchroom chair before Alice—or anybody—could find me. I did go lie in the football field then, all by myself, with the little green iPod in tow. The polar opposite of the day before, I stared, open-eyed at the sky. I was sprawled out and laid open and futilely hopeful that something would give me a sign. My instincts told me there was something special about him, that he wouldn't hurt me, that I made him drop his defenses. But he wasn't really letting me see him, either—he just kept pushing towards me, and I had no explanation why.

By the time I met Alice to head into the gym, I was as clueless as before. Ten minutes after taking my seat on the bleachers, my mood became sulfurously foul. My voice of reason had beat the hell out of my hopeful delusions. My lack of sustenance left me irritable and weak. Alice's radiating bliss as she texted with Jasper only reminded me of what I didn't have. And the last thing I needed was pep.

I did the only thing that could distract me from this torture. I pulled out my cell and logged in.

_**Bella Swan would take down a nun for something with caffeine and sugar **_

I fired it off irritably and immediately, before surfing off on my un-merry way. I tried not to dwell on it as an act of defiance—as proof that not everything was about him. As I went through the motions of scanning my usual sites, I wondered whether I was proving it to him or to me. When theonion . com and Brick Breaker stopped cutting it, I slammed my phone back into my pocket. I hadn't refocused on Coach Bradley's lousy job of emceeing for two minutes when I heard the hushed whisper of my name.

"Bella Swan," the unfamiliar female voice whisper-urged, "She's, like, two rows behind you."

I had no clue what was going on. Looking down the bleachers to the sea of kids seated in front of me, it seemed that some kind of wave was passing through the crowd.

"Bella Swan," an unfamiliar, bored-sounding voice instructed, and the strange movements of the crowd continued.

By then, even Alice had caught on and she fixed me in a glance of confusion just as two items were dropped onto my lap. Reflexively, I snatched up a red Coke can (that shit was cold!) before noticing the bag of Skittles.

I scanned the crowd then, at last permitting myself to look for him. He smirked when he saw me before turning his attention to something in his palm. _His phone_. I set aside my snacks to open mine. With the click of a button to open Facebook Mobile, my hopeful delusions returned.

_**Edward Cullen – Taste the rainbow**_

* * * * *

**EPOV (Thursday Afternoon – Forks Hospital)**

"Hey there, little man…" I whispered to baby Nick, a wide smile taking root on my face.

He wasn't smiling yet or moving around much, but his eyes were open and he looked much healthier than he had at birth some five weeks before. It was afterschool and I was at the hospital starting my shift for my Tuesday and Thursday volunteer gig. Almost no one knew that I cuddled newborn babies who were stuck in the ICU.

Since most parents had jobs or other kids or obligations and couldn't be with their newborns more than a couple hours a day, the hospital arranged a small army of "cuddlers". Research showed that babies needed adequate human contact to develop essential social bonding hormones and interaction skills. Cuddlers held the babies while wearing linens provided by the parents so the babies would associate being nurtured with the scent of their homes.

Not just anyone could be a cuddler, of course—they had to watch out for baby-stealing lunatics. And beyond all the rigorous criminal and background checks, candidates had to be good with babies. Yet another thing that wasn't widely known—the nurses called me "The Baby Whisperer" for my talent to calm babies with my voice. But, as with most other cuddlers (Rosalie, for one), I was driven by more than pure altruism. Being here was cathartic.

"He's happy to see you," a nurse named Grace smiled kindly, glancing at us briefly as she swaddled a baby close by.

"I'm happy to see him," I smiled back, before lifting the little bundle to settle him in my arms.

I had a brother once. Anthony was his name. He'd lived for seven weeks. I'd visited him every day of his life in this very room, but I'd loved him before he was born. They say babies connect with music and voices even within the womb. When my mom was pregnant with Anthony, my dad and I would talk to her belly and take turns playing him CDs. I'd sit with my mom on the piano bench when he was restless and she would play him soothing concertos. She told me stories of when I was in her womb and how happy they'd been that I was coming, how they'd done the same things for me.

He was born prematurely and through a difficult labor. Not all of his organs functioned properly and he was weak. Since he couldn't come home, we'd visit him here. Given my dad's position at the hospital, they made sure I cleaned up and wore scrubs and looked the other way on the "no children in NICU" rule. What they said about intra-womb hearing must have been true, because it seemed he remembered my voice. Most days he was too weak to be held, but I remember each time that I did. People who thought six years old was too young of an age to remember something like this were dead fucking wrong. I remembered every moment with him.

When he died, the implosion decimated my world, pulling all three of us into a darkness from which we've never completely emerged. My dad took a hiatus from medicine. My mom barely spoke for weeks. They sent me to live with my cousins in Alaska that summer. I came home that fall to altered parents: a mother so paranoid over my safety that she smothered me with her protection; a father too grief-stricken to face his family, who started spending all his time at work.

In the ten years that had passed, things were much better, but to arrive here I'd learned how to cope. During the bad years, music drowned out the sounds of my parents fighting. During the sad years, it filled the silence. When I went to dark places, it joined me. At times, it gave me hope and in its words, it held the promise of a life much different from this.

"Waaahhh!",

Baby Nick's tiny, abrupt cry broke me out of my thoughts. I often thought deep, in this place. Stopping my slow pacing back and forth across the floor, I sat us in a rocker and hummed my own little lullaby. Stroking his small cheek and hugging him to me, I couldn't help but smile.

When his eyes fell shut and his breathing evened, I returned to my own thoughts. Like my wonder of what must have happened to Bella to make her listen to the music she did.

"How's he doing?"

This time it was my father's voice that broke me away from my thoughts. He often visited me in here. "I had a free minute and thought I'd come by," he'd say, though I knew he made time to come. He still worried, sometimes, that I'd never be whole. In that, I think he was right.

"Much better," I said, smiling up at my dad, showing him I was okay.

"How are _you_ doing?" he asked in the voice of a father, not a doctor.

_I met a girl. She's beautiful, and she has passion and depth. I like her so much it scares me, but fuck it. She's worth laying it on the line. I had grand plans to talk to her today, but got cockblocked by a lame-ass pep rally and I had to leave right after school to come here. Maybe I'll chat with her tonight on Facebook—I've become quite the cyber-stalker._

"Really good, Dad," I said honestly, and he beamed.

We sat in companionable silence for a bit, as was our normal routine. Each time, I would offer to let him hold the baby for awhile and each time, he sadly refused.

Noticing the time, he got up to return to his shift and we said we'd see each other at home.

"By the way…stop down to see Dr. Sturman before you leave. She has something she thinks you may want."

I raised my eyebrow at my dad's cryptic smile. His chuckle followed him down the hall.

* * * * *

**BPOV (Thursday After School)**

In place of a peaceful afternoon spent obsessing over Edward, I fell prey to Alice's third degree. At the assembly, she'd immediately ditched her texting with Jasper, demanding to know who sent me treats and why. I wasn't about to get into it in a crowded gymnasium so instead of asking, I'd poured half of my Skittles in her hand. When I met her in the parking lot at the end of eighth period, she shoved her Blackberry in my face.

"_Taste the rainbow?!_" she whisper-hissed with shocked accusation.

Her Facebook app was on screen and showed Edward's update.

"Since when are you friends with Edward?!" I hedged indignantly.

"Since _get in the fucking car_!" her helium voice threatened, knowing we couldn't speak of this here.

We zipped out of the parking lot at unauthorized speeds, turning not towards my house but toward hers. I scrolled through my phone, predictably obsessed with more updates from Edward. He hadn't left any, but a Recent Activity update with a glowing cartoon heart next to it suddenly piqued my interest:

_**Jasper Whitlock and Alice Brandon are in a relationship**_

I pulled the same move she'd just done to me, showing her my screen. Her words of concession came quickly.

"Looks like we have some catching up to do."

Thank God for her housekeeper, who made us a snack. I was starving for lack of real nourishment. Over chicken salad on whole wheat, I gave her an abridged version of the story with Edward. I told her we'd chatted briefly about music, that he'd made a few recommendations, that we'd only had contact twice, both times online. I wasn't lying when I said we'd never talked face to face, but I left out the parts about his emo mix tapes. I was still too insecure about Edward's motives to come totally clean to Alice.

There was something else, too. Yes, she was my best friend, but she had a vested interest in me and Edward getting together. Between her crazy "prediction" that Edward had a crush on me and the fact that she and Jasper were together now, it seemed dangerous to put her in a position to convince me of something we both desperately wanted to be true.

"Stop grilling me about Edward!" I exclaimed gently at some point "It's your turn to spill about Jasper."

Cartoon hearts and blue-jays orbited her head when I dropped the J-word, and that was the end of Edward. By the time she finished telling me about their budding romance, about him walking her to class and calling her every night, the comparative evidence—that nothing of consequence was going on between Edward and me—was ample.

When I returned home that evening, I had made a decision of survival. I knew that I had to back off. I waited 'til late to log onto Facebook. I hoped he would get the point.

_**Bella Swan is crashing from her sugar high**_

After typing my message, I logged right back out.

I made an excuse to Alice about driving myself to school and I rolled in the next morning deliberately late. I had a plan for Bio—I'd be cordial, but not hopeful. My days of trying to reach him were over. If he wanted something more than a bizarre, shallow, felonious friendship, he'd have to step up and make his move.

When I reached my seat, my Nano sat on my side of the desk, an unfamiliar set of fancy-looking white earphones were wrapped around the middle of each side before fanning into an elegant bow.

"New headphones?" I asked, fully expecting the question to be rhetorical.

He shrugged and pulled out my chair for me.

"Those are better."

I nearly fell into my proffered seat.

"He speaks!" It was meant sarcastically, but laced with genuine surprise.

His chuckle was drowned out by Mr. Banner as he started his lesson. I reached into my pocket and pulled out his green Shuffle, sliding it across the table to him. He began scribbling on a piece of paper and clandestinely slid me a note.

_**I took the liberty of adding some songs to your Nano. I hope you like them.**_

_**Thanks**_, I wrote back. I didn't mean to be terse, but this whole thing was fucking me up and I had to stick to my plan.

_**What are you up to this weekend?**_, he wrote back a few minutes later.

So now he wanted to be pals? Our need to be stealthy as we passed notes back and forth gave me a minute to form my response.

_**The usual—polishing the silver, planning my world domination strategy.**_

When he laughed at that, I bit back a smile.

_**I got two passes to see Foo Fighters on Sunday**_

My eyebrows rose when I read the note. Dedicated fan that I am, I knew all about the sold-out charity event they were doing at a small venue in Seattle. I wanted to be angry that Edward could afford tickets and I couldn't, but mostly I was just jealous that he would get to see them play.

_**You'll have to tell me about it**_, I wrote back trying to keep from looking sad.

I could feel him looking at me then, could feel the warmth radiating off of his skin. That animal magnetism of his was working the hell out of me, and I knew if I looked back at him I'd be a goner. He wrote his next note more slowly and passed it carefully, almost apprehensively. I was almost afraid to read it.

_**Either that, or you could come with me**_

I read it twice. Three times.

_Either. That. Or. You. Could. Come. With. Me._

By the time I allowed myself to entertain the thought that Edward Cullen might be asking me out, he had snatched the paper back and wrote another message. Now I was _really_ afraid to read what it said.

_**I know you like them. You have everything they've ever released on your iPod**_

Holy fuck, he was really trying to get me to go with him!

_**It depends**_, I wrote back, needing to hold on to some thread of my dignity. Things could not progress as they had before.

_**On what?**_ He shot back. His look of worry didn't escape me.

My mind was _so_ made up already (like I was going to miss out on Dave Grohl!), but Edward didn't need to know that.

_**On whether you'll talk to me like I'm a normal person. I'm not texting you all night.**_

Though he loosed a velvet chuckle, I was not laughing. Nor was Mr. Banner, who leveled a glare.

_**Of course we'll talk!**_

I gestured at the note sarcastically, and fired back:

_**You just *wrote me a note* to promise we'll talk?**_

He rolled his eyes as he started writing again.

_**It would be inappropriate to talk during class, Bella.**_

I raised my eyebrow.

_**More or less appropriate than passing notes?**_

He chuckled again, quieter this time. I found that I loved the sound.

_**I'll take your untraditional show of gratitude as a yes. May I pick you up at 5?**_

I fixed my eyes on the blackboard as I nodded my acquiescence, hating myself for how _fucking easy_ he made me. I spent the rest of class so wrapped up in thinking about Sunday I barely noticed when the bell rang. Before I could rise to stand, he leaned close to whisper in my ear.

"And, Bella? For the record, you're much better than normal."

By the time I registered the caress of his breath on my neck and the response of my nipples, he was already long gone.

* * * * *

**Chapter End Notes: **

Facebook Friends has been nominated for two awards! If you are enjoying this fic, you can vote for it to win:

The iPod Award for best musically-inspired fic (The Moonlight Awards: themoonlightawards(dot)yolasite(dot)com/nominees(dot)php) - voting begins on 10/14

The Imprint Award for best original plot (The Sparkle Awards: www(dot)thesparkleawards(dot)webs(dot)com/nominees(dot)htm) – voting begins on 10/16

**Question:** what's the best concert you've ever been to?


	8. Everlong

**A/N: **You all are making this fic so popular by rec'ing it out! Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews!

I finally got my blog up—it's called "**Diary of a Fic Fiend**": diaryofaficfiend(dot)blogspot(dot)com and it's basically me talking about what I'm reading or whatever's tickling my funny bone with respect to my Twific addiction.

Also, be sure to follow me on Twitter (handle is _**TheGreenPuma**_). For Chapter 9, I'll be posting teasers on the Facebook Friends thread, and I'll be alerting it on Twitter.

Perpetual love to _**Gondolier**_ and _**Sassenach Wench**_ for keepin' it real, and to _**Helena Handbasket**_ for being hilarious on my blog and for her Twilighted beta!

* * * * *

**Chapter 8 – Everlong**

_She says, and I wonder_

_When I sing along with you_

_If anything could ever feel this real forever_

_If anything could ever be this good again_

_The only thing I'll ever ask of you_

_Gotta promise not to stop when I say 'when'_

"_**Everlong" by Foo Fighters**_

**EPOV (Sunday)**

Bella's front door flew open before I made it up the steps. Her cheeks were alive with that gorgeous flush and her hair was slightly wild. Only the panicked expression and nervous lip-biting were enough to temporarily distract me from what she wore. As the evening progressed, I'd more than make up for failing to immediately admire her tight blue jeans and little black Foo Fighters hoodie.

"I'll explain later, just…_sorry_," she whispered with genuine distress as she ushered me into her home.

I'd driven twenty miles an hour slower than my normal speed to get there, and not just to compensate for having left my house so early. It was the first time I was taking a girl on an honest-to-goodness date and I needed the time to rehearse what I'd say to Chief Swan.

In my vision, things would go like they did in the movies. Chief Swan would greet me at the door and cast a disdainfully appraising look before waving me inside. Bella, of course, would still be upstairs doing whatever girls do while their dates are scrutinized by (rightfully) protective fathers. He'd test my handshake and my eye contact to size up just what kind of boy I was. And, seconds before she floated into earshot, he'd growl a threat that if I laid a hand on his daughter he'd cut my fucking balls off.

I couldn't blame the guy—he'd been young once. He knew the hearts of teenage boys. But, Bella was the one girl I knew I would never want to hurt; my job was to make sure the Chief knew it too.

I followed Bella into the dining room and looked him straight in the eye.

"Hello, Chief Swan—I'm Edward Cullen. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

He shook my hand hard, but I gave as good as I got.

"Edward! Pleasure to finally meet you!" he said jovially before withdrawing his hand.

The act of sitting back down in the seat from which he'd stood drew my attention to the startling array of hunting knives that lay before him on the table. I moved instinctively to stand behind a dining room chair, one with a high back that shielded my privates.

"Thank you for allowing Bella to accompany me to the concert on such short notice. It's a charity show at The Vermillion Room. I'm sure we'll be quite safe."

The Chief resumed sharpening a rather long knife, sporting an eerily cheerful smile as he took his time to answer. By then Bella had stepped behind him and was mouthing another '_I'm so sorry_…'

"Well, my girl knows how to take care of herself. Don't you, Bells?" he asked as he picked up a blood orange that he began to peel with the knife. He started at the navel and sliced perfectly roundly and lengthwise to the stem. With shocking speed, he completed the job with minimal strokes, exposing the juicy gloss of a deeply-skinned fruit.

"And I know Edward will take great care of you…", he looked at me then, the same pleasant smile on his face, "…won't you, son?"

_You're creeping me out, Deputy Dog_

I shifted my eyes to Bella for a second. She looked pretty pissed.

"Concert starts at eight, dad—I'll be home by one," she ground out with thinly-veiled exasperation.

He sliced into the orange with two long, precise cuts, loosening a single section that he quickly ate off of the knife.

"Don't be late, kid," he lightly answered Bella, though he was still watching me.

She pulled me toward the door.

"Good night, sir," I nodded, just as he squeezed the orange between his fist, shooting an impressive stream of juice into a small glass.

"And Edward?", he asked, his voice a honeyed song, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

When he winked, I hightailed it the fuck out of there.

* * * * *

**BPOV**

My mortification at my dad's behavior prevented me from enjoying Edward's hand on my back as he walked me to his car, and the way the opened and held the passenger door before he closed me in.

"He still thinks I'm a little girl," I explained lamely as Edward started the engine "It's been a decade since we've seen each other for more than a couple of weeks a year. He's still not used to the idea of me da—"

_Damn._

"—of me doing certain things on my own, and he thinks if he keeps reminding people he's the chief of police, they'll be careful with me."

_Not so graceful save, girl_, I thought as I withered a little in my seat.

"I'd be protective of you, too, Bella," Edward said quietly, surprising me with a kind smile before he pulled onto the road.

The sun had begun to set and it was that lovely time of day when twilight would soon descend. I had come to worship the darkness of the forest and the embrace of the trees that seemed to guard every inch of road. Edward's car contained his own delectable scent, and the added component of leather was another embrace unto itself. Subdued by the quiet of the engine, the calm of his voice, and the sublime luxury of seat heat, I was becoming lulled into relaxation.

We rode silently at first, and because of the dark, I didn't immediately notice that his car had one of those fancy iPod docks. Spotting his shiny black Nano, which I'd been dying to check out, the temptation was too great to resist. Surreptitiously darting my eyes to his face, I made sure his eyes were trained ahead. When I thought the coast was clear, I reached my hand out, to grab it. He got to it first.

"Uh-uh," he tutted as he simultaneously drove, smirked, and scrolled through the device before returning it to the dock. My eyesight was just quick enough to see him initiate a playlist called "concert." When "Ordinary World" by Duran Duran came on, it was my turn to smirk. He knew I loved that song.

"So how'd you score these tickets anyway? I thought they sold out ages ago."

"I was given them as a gift," he shrugged vaguely.

"Someone gave you $1,000 a seat benefit tickets as a gift?" I didn't know what to say. "You gotta introduce me to your friends."

He shrugged again, somewhat uncomfortably.

"My dad's colleague's husband, Greg, writes for Rolling Stone. His editor is a friend of the band and got passes that she couldn't use. She gave them to Greg, who was going to take his wife, but her niece from Sandusky is having some last-minute wedding in Vegas. They know I love Foo Fighters, so they offered the tickets to me. It just happened on Thursday," he spilled out in a rush.

I shook my head slightly and bit my lip to conceal my mirth.

"So, basically your neighbor's cousin's step-uncle is married to Dave Grohl's baby's momma's hairstylist, who just so happens to do your mother's hair as well, and when she found out you liked the band, she hooked it up?"

As I watched his signature crooked smile spread to warm his features, I could hear the proverbial ice breaking.

"Something like that," he said with that velvet chuckle that pulled me a bit deeper each time I heard it.

"So…unwelcome parental supervision aside, Bella, how are you enjoying Forks?"

God, I loved the sound of him speaking my name.

"The weather's been tough, but…I like it here. Living with my dad, making a friend like Alice..." I considered my words. "They're both a welcome change."

I hadn't meant to be cryptic but Edward looked understandably puzzled.

"So, there's nothing you miss about Phoenix?"

I shrugged. "Not much," I said frankly.

I could sense him hesitate to probe deeper.

"It's complicated," I said, not sadly—just honestly.

"I think I can keep up." It was an offer, not a demand.

As I found myself considering where to start, I realized with some alarm that it seemed natural to want to share things with Edward. Though I had never had a more bizarre relationship in my life, the fact was, when we were Facebooking or chatting or passing notes, or even talking, I got the strongest compulsions to let him in.

"I grew up kind of fast," I said glancing over at him. "Renee—that's my mom—she's not very maternal, so I pretty much ran the house."

He looked over briefly, letting me know he was with me, and nodded so I would go on.

"She was eighteen when she had me and raising me kind of robbed her of her youth. When all of her friends were dating, partying, ot finding the loves of their lives, she was changing diapers and divorcing the biggest mistake of hers."

"Is that how you ended up in Phoenix?" he asked gently. "The divorce?"

I nodded.

"We went to Vegas first, but I was too young to remember it. She always wanted to get out of Forks—to 'be somebody'," I paraphrased. "I don't know too much about why we left Las Vegas, only that Renee tried to be a showgirl and it didn't work out. She could never just settle down and be a mom and build a life for us. She always wanted to make it big, or meet a man who made it big, and chasing down her dream took up a lot of her time. So, when I was old enough to take care of myself…I did."

He gulped, and I worried that I'd made him uncomfortable, that I'd said too much too soon.

"How old was old enough to 'take care of yourself'?"

I kept my breathing even.

"Eight."

I noticed his hands tighten on the steering wheel.

"I was six," he almost whispered.

When I stared at him in skeptical confusion, his crooked smile was sad.

"It's complicated."

It took me a moment to find my voice.

"I think I can keep up."

Even in the dark, I could see his eyes change as he looked ahead.

"I had a baby brother who died when I was that age. My parents kind of…checked out."

The sadness emanating from him in that moment made me want to cry.

"What was his name?" I asked, refusing to toss out a platitude.

"Anthony," he said finally, his voice deep and gritty.

* * * * *

**EPOV**

It was hard to believe I'd been nervous about talking to Bella—it seemed now that I couldn't shut up. It was like that second time we chatted on Facebook, when I lost track of time and the conversation just flowed. I'd worried that our banter, which worked so well online, wouldn't translate similarly to real life. If anything, the pull I felt toward her was much stronger in person.

My initial instinct had been correct. There was something different about Bella. Only, now I knew why that 'something different' attracted me. We were more alike than I could have imagined. We were both raised in lonely houses under circumstances that forced us to grow up too fast. We both found comfort in music, and solitude, and we both longed to start over.

Though we didn't go too _'Dr Phil'_ on each other on the ride to Seattle, our conversation stayed pretty deep. The concept of courtship was new to me, but I was pretty sure that conversation about having to sign your own permission slips because your parents were too out of it to sign them for you wasn't typical first date shit. I was also starting to think my compulsion to touch her had only partly to do with my hormones. Four times, I had resisted reaching my hand across the console to smooth her hair or cover her hand with mine.

"Do you like pizza, Bella? My favorite place is right around here," I said as we stood next to my parked car.

The show started in an hour, we were a few blocks from The Vermillion Room, and I wanted to make sure she ate.

"Feeding me again, Cullen?"

I loved seeing her blush at something I said, but _fuck_, it was hot when she blushed at herself. It made me wonder whether the thoughts in her pretty little head were anything like the forbidden ones in mine.

We made lighter talk as I led the way down streets more crowded than what we were used to. I touched her back—to guide her as far as she was concerned, but as a gesture of warning, as far as I was. I didn't like the way men's eyes stopped to appreciate her hip-hugging jeans and the fit of her nubile curves in that tight little hoodie. It was a good thing she was in front of me, chatting away, and unable to see my face as I sent clear signals to those around us.

_She. Is. Mine._

We reached the door of the pizza place and she stopped short before walking in, looking inside the window skeptically.

"_This_ is your favorite pizza place?"

I looked inside the simple restaurant and saw business as usual—ten or so partially-gone pies behind glass, customers sitting with their order numbers visible on yellow-top table-booths, a kid at the self-service soda fountain loading up on root beer.

"Uh, yeah…what's wrong with it?"

"No offense, it's just…I guess I never pegged you as a 'dollar a slice' kind of guy."

_Oh, that…_

"I'm sure I could find you some more expensive pizza, if it would be more to your liking?" I joked lightly with an ease that surprised even me. Usually, it pissed me off when people judged me for having money, but with Bella, I found I just wanted to please her.

"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—" she stammered, and I squeezed her shoulder and laughed.

"Just get inside, Swan."

She ordered the same thing as me—one slice each of regular cheese and of white cheese pizza—and I laughed at her again when she tried to pay (what kind of ass-backwards date did this girl think I was taking her on?) We sat across from each other at the table as we waited for our slices to heat. I was taken with the way she played with her straw between taking sips of her soda—it was adorable as hell.

"So, how'd you know I liked Skittles and Coke?"

_You drink a Coke Classic at lunch every day and hoard a secret supply of Skittles in your locker, which you only eat when you're stressed out. _

"Lucky guess…" I shrugged innocently.

I couldn't tell whether she bought it.

"And, how did you know I would like all those songs you added to my iPod?"

I smiled. _So she did like them._

"Bella…" I couldn't help leaning in toward her, "It should be abundantly clear by now that we have some kind of…"

_Soul-deep connection_

"…_synchronicity _when it comes to music."

The hue of her irises was gorgeous, as was the expression of innocent perplexity on her face. I wanted badly to lean in farther and kiss her, but I could see she hadn't even begun to fathom how deeply I felt for her.

It was probably for the best that our pizza came right then. We spent the rest of our brief meal and our walk to The Vermillion Room gushing about how good the pizza was and one-upping each other on Jasper and Alice's love struck displays.

The temperature had dropped by the time we approached the venue, and there was a small line forming out front. She was just wearing a baby tee under her hoodie, and when I saw her shiver a little I stepped in behind her to rub her shoulders for warmth. We kept on talking, even chatted up some other fans waiting in line, and being with her felt _right_. I diligently alternated rubbing her shoulders and her hands, but twenty minutes later, my girl shivered again. She leaned back toward me—subconsciously, I assumed—in search of more of my warmth.

"Do you want my jacket, Bella?" I asked softly, dipping my head to speak next to her ear.

By now, her back was on my chest. My hands rubbed her upper arms, and her ear was near my shoulder. She shook her head gently.

"I'm good right here," she whispered.

It was all the invitation I needed to slide my hands down off of her shoulders to fold her inside my arms.

* * * * *

**BPOV**

Waiting outside a club on a cold Seattle night doesn't turn most people into lust-filled, quivering messes. Then again, most people in front of clubs aren't having their extremities caressed. Most people in front of clubs have had sex recently. Most people in front of clubs aren't busy being dazzled by _Edward Fucking Cullen_.

I'd lost the capacity to chat up the couple in line in front of us somewhere between the time he started rubbing my fingers and when he pulled me into his chest. I was sure I owed this brand of chivalry only to the blue of Edward's blood; but I quickly got over why he was doing it and resolved that I would just enjoy. And by enjoy, I meant leaning farther into him, turning my head to the side to better catch his scent, and accepting his embrace. My eyes were closed and I might have been purring, but I was too far gone to care. The self-righteous part of me murmured that he'd better feel lucky I wasn't groping or licking him yet.

I had no sense for how much time had passed as I stood locked inside his arms. The conversations of the crowd and the sounds of traffic registered as a dull roar. I followed the rise and fall of his chest, felt the weight of his chin on my head, felt the sway of his body as he rocked us ever so slightly. It was like floating on the most perfect raft on the bluest ocean on the clearest, most sunny day.

_Bella, love..._

Ooh, and I was having the most wonderful fantasies! Now I could hear his voice. Maybe we could—

"Bella…" he whispered, only this time his voice was real.

It seemed it was time to move. If I didn't know better, I'd think he kissed the top of my head before gently nudging us forward. He kept hold of my hand and the small of my back as he ushered me into the club. I was shocked by the interior—it was not what I expected.

"They did it in the style of the old supper clubs," Edward murmured in appreciation, "but the place itself is relatively new."

It was like something from the movies—a floor-level hardwood dance floor and stage with a bandstand set up behind it, small cocktail tables on the darkly-carpeted floor that encircled the stage, and raised booths that fanned out amphitheater style and were upholstered with fine, vermillion-colored fabric. When I'd heard the show was at a club venue, I'd pictured crowds and beer stench, black-painted walls, speakers that were too loud and filthy bathrooms. But this? This was something the likes of which I had never seen, and I knew I could never forget it.

An usher seated us in a cozy booth aligned left to the stage and on the closest level to the floor. The set-up had no room for drums, no large amps or enormous speaker sets. I knew the band preferred playing small venues, but I had no clue this would be such an intimate show. It didn't take long to get everyone seated, and Edward took my hand as the lights went down.

I was glad he did, because I needed to squeeze _something_ when Dave Grohl walked out on stage. I didn't take my eyes off of Dave long enough to see Nate. I barely even heard him talk about LIFEbeat, the charity that had inspired the fundraiser. Though I stayed aware of Edward's presence, for long moments, it was impossible to fully focus on them both. Instead, I tried not to spontaneously combust from being in the combined presence of the two hottest men on earth.

* * * * *

**EPOV**

I tried not to stare at Bella as she looked in wonder toward the stage. She was grinning widely, her eyes alight with an awestruck joy I had never seen. I loved that being able to see the Foo Fighters play made her so happy, loved that I had the good fortune to be in a position to give her this. Plus, the way she paid attention as they talked about the charity told me she was totally into the cause.

I suspected she was too laser-focused on what the band was saying to notice my unwavering stare. But since I didn't want to creep her out a second time after the way I'd practically mauled her outside the club, I forced myself to look away, toward the faces of the other fans.

It was a beautiful venue that had been tastefully sold out to just the right capacity. Cocktail waitresses floated comfortably among a well-portioned crowd sitting in pairs or threes in rounded booths. Speaking of crowds, I knew this was a small charity show, but shouldn't they have more security? Some of these girls and even a couple of guys looked about ready to pounce on Dave Grohl.

They opened up with a slow, easy version of "Times Like These" that told the crowd just the kind of show this would be. No mega-amps or drums from the band; no screaming or loud applause from the crowd—just gut-wrenching, goose-bumping, soul-filling music.

As it turned out, it wasn't a typical set list—they (wisely, in my opinion) chose the ones that worked well for a subdued vibe. As the show went on, and they played through "Ain't It The Life", "February Stars", and "Hero", I stopped being so worried about Bella catching me staring and got pulled into the songs. I'd been to dozens of shows before—always obsessing over having the best seats and getting the best view of the band—but for the first time, it became the most perfect thing in the world to just close my eyes and feel the music.

The times I did have my eyes open, I looked not at the band, but at her. Through "Razor", "Disenchanted Lullaby", and a gorgeous version of "Long Road to Ruin", the most sublime energy flowed inside and around me, and at some point, I realized it wasn't me or the music creating the energy—it was _us_.

_What are you doing to me, Bella?_

We didn't speak a word as they played—didn't touch our drinks, but rather sat still with our hands clasped tightly. At times, she closed her eyes or looked at the stage, but sometimes she looked at me like she could peer right into my soul. At those times, I could see her—I mean _really_ see her, too—and my girl was fucking beautiful.

_I'm falling in love with you_

The realization overwhelmed me, and my eyes fell suddenly shut. Few things had ever felt so dangerous, but nothing had felt so right.

I had no concept of how many songs had passed when I heard the opening chords of "_Everlong_". I opened my eyes, then, and she was looking at me, and when Dave started singing, I heard the words as if for the first time.

I neither could nor wanted to stop myself from leaning in closer. I whimpered inaudibly as our foreheads touched. My eyes closed as I trailed the end of my nose over the length of hers. My fingers traveled up her arm and neck to caress her slender jaw as I whispered her name against her lips.

_Please, love me back_, I prayed, breathless, before I caught her lips in a desperate kiss.

* * * * *

**Chapter End Notes: **

You likey? Let me Know! And, if you think Facebook Friends deserves your vote, head over to the Sparkle Awards and the Moonlight Awards to cast your ballot!

The iPod Award for best musically-inspired fic (The Moonlight Awards: themoonlightawards(dot)yolasite(dot)com/nominees(dot)php) - voting began on 10/14

The Imprint Award for best original plot (The Sparkle Awards: www(dot)thesparkleawards(dot)webs(dot)com/nominees(dot)htm) – voting began on 10/16

**Meanwhile, a question:** what is Edward's happy song?


	9. This is Love

**A/N: **WOW! I cannot believe the response to Chapter 8. Thank you so much for all of your reviews! I worked hard to respond to all of them, but I won't be able to do so every chapter. It would seriously impair my ability to update the fic each week. As always, I will read and cherish every single review, and if you ask me a question or just want to squee with me, I will respond :)

**Do you like my music? **Why not bid for me to build you a custom playlist in the Twilight Fanfiction Author Auction for Alex's Lemonade Stand? For a $50 bid, I will customize a playlist of 25 songs from the soundtrack of "Facebook Friends"! I will send the winner (through iTunes) my favorite 25 songs mentioned in conjunction with the fic—this includes playlists or fan recs on the Twilighted message forum ("Facebook Friends - Behind the Music") and future songs that have not yet been featured. If the bidder owns any of the songs on the list, I will switch them out for different ones, of course!

Special thanks to _**Gondolier**_ for her saint-like patience with my comma problem, _**Sassenach Wench **_for beta-ing this chapter twice and making me smile with her reverse beta-love, and _**Helena Handbasket**_ for her tolerance for my, erm…, disorganization this week!

* * * * *

**Chapter 9 – This Is Love**

_I can't believe life's so complex_

_When I just want to sit here and watch you undress_

_I can't believe life's so complex_

_When I just want to sit here and watch you undress_

_This is love, this is love, that I'm feelin'_

_This is love, this is love, that I'm feelin'_

_This is love, love, love, that I'm feelin'_

**-**_**This Is Love**_** by PJ Harvey**

**BPOV**

"Edward," I whispered breathily onto his lips as he pulled back from a searing kiss. I felt drunk as I lifted heavy lids to his smoldering green eyes, a thrill coursing through me as he fixed me with a predatory leer.

"Bells," he said in a voice that didn't sound like his.

Being with him like this was surreal.

"Bells…" I heard it again. This time, it was accompanied by a brisk nudge on my shoulder, and it didn't come from Edward's mouth.

_Not yet, Dave_! I thought indignantly, _I'll get to you in a minute…_

"Time to shake a leg, kid. I know you got in late last night, but I need to make sure you get up for school."

The best moment of my life fell away as I blinked my eyes awake to find Charlie standing above me. I groaned in angry disappointment and threw a stray pillow over my head—I'd pay money to get back into that dream.

"I gotta head out, but coffee's downstairs," came Charlie's muffled voice from just beyond the pillow.

I nodded my response, knowing he wouldn't expect more. I am not a morning person.

My limbs were heavy and numb. I felt like I had barely slept, so it took awhile for me to get my bearings. When I registered the sound of the cruiser engine humming into the distance, I was still just marginally awake. I pushed the pillow off of my head, reopened my eyes, and pulled myself up so that I was propped on one arm. Yawning as I ran my fingers through my hair, I spotted something across the room.

_His iPod_

And then it all came flying back—Seattle, the concert, the kiss.

I was up in an instant, all grogginess gone as I practically leapt across the room to my desk. I fingered the special-edition black Nano, smoothing my fingers tentatively over where his name was carved in neat font across the back.

_Last night happened._

_It wasn't a dream._

_I think Edward and I might be dating._

Then I was grinning, and squealing, and feeling fan-fucking-tastic as I started getting ready for school. Twenty minutes later, I was rocking out hard, my speakers blasting as I belted PJ Harvey into my "microphone" (read: my hairbrush).

"I can't believe life's so complex, when I just want to sit here and watch you undress! I can't believe life's so complex, when I just want to sit here and watch you undress! This is love, this is love that I'm feelin'. This is love this is love, that—"

The music stopped abruptly, but I was on a roll.

"—I'm feelin'. Yeah love, yeah, love."

The lack of music finally registered and I opened my eyes.

"—that I'm feelin'…"

My voice trailed off as I took in Alice where she stood, dumbstruck, at my bedroom door. Yesterday I would have been embarrassed, but today I burst into a fit of giggles at being caught, at the look on Alice's face, at the residual ride from the Edward high. It must have been contagious because she started laughing along with me and soon we were breathless on the floor.

"I already knew your date went well," she said, wiping a tear from her eye, "but I had no idea it went _that_ well! Tell me everything!"

And since her catching me like this completely pulled out the last limbs of the cat from the bag, I did. She hadn't bought it on Friday when I tried to convince the both of us that Edward had invited me to the concert as a friend. She ignored me on Saturday when I forbade her to raid my closet for my hottest pair of skinny jeans. On Sunday, she lured me to her house under the guise of telling me about her own first date with Jasper, a story she said she could only recount while doing my hair. Things had gone too far to keep pretending, and I wasn't fooling her anyway. It felt good to finally let her in.

"He was the perfect gentleman," I gushed, starting with how he'd handled Charlie, how he'd held my door and held my hand. Without telling Edward's secrets, I told her how we'd talked—really talked—about family and feelings and life. I told her about the modest little pizza place, him keeping me warm in line, the intense gazes and tender touches, and the kiss.

"Oooh, I knew it!" Alice clapped happily. "See, Bella? People aren't always what they seem. I knew Edward was different."

"I guess," I returned pensively, hoping she was right as I rose to my feet and helped her off the floor.

She plopped onto my bed as I put my hairbrush to its intended use. If we didn't leave in a few minutes, we'd be late.

"So, what did Edward say to Jasper, exactly?" I asked.

I'll admit it. I was dying to know.

"Nothing. Jasper's very discreet about Edward," she said, a twinge of disappointment in her voice. "Believe me, I've tried."

I looked at her through the mirror, continuing to brush my hair.

"Wait, you said you already knew our date went well. If Jasper didn't tell you, how could you know that?"

"From Edward."

_WTF?_

"You talk to Edward now? Between the hours of one and…" I glanced at my watch, "eight a.m.?"

Her smile widened as she rolled her eyes.

"Bel-_la_," she intoned with amused impatience, "I thought you were, like, addicted to Facebook! Didn't you see his update this morning?"

The surprised pause barely lasted a second. I wasted no time tossing my brush on the bed, dropping into my computer chair and pulling up Facebook. My heart did a roundoff double back-handspring when I read what he had written.

_**Edward Cullen is listening to his happy song**_

* * * * *

**EPOV**

The only guitar I played was of the air variety, and I was riffing the hell out of my song. I hit play on my computer when I got out of the shower, humming along as I began to get dressed. As the lead guitar kicked in and the tension built and the drums went kind of wild, I jumped onto my bed, wearing no more than socked feet and jeans and laid into the song.

There are many, many things I love about The Who, but nothing more than "Baba O'Reilly". It's the kind of song that gets you from the very first listen and holds you _right there_.

Roger Daltrey started singing the lyrics and I got so into my air guitar that my damp hair fell into my eyes. I was humming along with gusto and getting hopped up on adrenaline, and I barely halted my wild dancing in time for the Pete Townshend part.

_Don't cry. Don't raise your eye. It's only teenage wasteland._

Did I mention I play the air drums, too? Well, I do.

"Sally, take my hand. We'll travel south cross land. Put out the fire, and don't look past my shoulder."

_That's not Roger Daltrey's voice…_

I looked up toward the doorway to find my father rocking his own little air guitar and singing along. I hadn't even heard him come in. He continued singing in earnest. He was kind of dorky, like I imagine most dads are, but at least he had a good voice.

"The exodus is here! The happy ones are near. Let's get together, before we get much older."

I laughed and kicked my feet out from under me, bouncing a little on my behind as I landed on my bed, and took in the vision of my dad letting loose. He was hamming it up so bad we were both cracking up before the song even ended. He strode over to me and clapped my back as he sat down on the bed.

"You're awfully chipper for someone who got home at one in the morning. I take it you had fun at the concert?"

I would normally save such details for Jazz and Em but I was bursting to tell someone.

"The music, the venue, just _everything_, Dad…it was almost spiritual. It was, like, the best night of my life."

The way my dad looked at me then made me feel that he could read my mind.

"And Bella? She liked the Food Fighters, too?" he baited.

I suppressed a laugh.

"Uh, dad—I think it's _Foo_ Fighters," I corrected kindly. "And, yes, Bella loved them. She insisted I send her thanks along to Dr. Sturman for passing on the tickets."

He continued cautiously. Dare I say…hopefully?

"_Bella_. That's a pretty name. She sounds like a nice girl."

"She is a nice girl," I smiled goofily. "Definitely a keeper."

My dad just laughed.

"Well, bring her around any time, son. Your mother and I would love to meet your girlfriend."

The words sent a thrill through my body,

_My girlfriend._

I'd never had, or wanted, a girlfriend before, but after last night I knew I wanted something more with Bella.

"She's not my girlfriend yet, Dad."

But I wanted her to be, and I had no clue how to make that happen. My lack of viable role models was a problem. Rose had initiated things with Emmett so he'd be no help, and, for obvious reasons, I couldn't take an example from Jasper. In movies, people kissed once and after that they were just _together_. Could it happen like that in real life?

"Then you'll just have to woo her until she begs for the distinction," my dad concluded.

_Woo her_, I repeated in my mind.

I had to woo Bella into falling in love.

* * * * *

**BPOV**

"Morning, ladies," Jasper drawled, while grinning pointedly at Alice as the two of us approached his car.

"Morning, Bella," Edward said softly, forgetting Alice completely, sporting his own smile as I walked to his side.

"Hey, Edward," I replied, my voice suddenly shy, despite my very recent exuberance.

"I brought you this." He extended his hand, which held a Starbuck's cup. "And this," he said, reaching for a small paper bag that sat atop his car.

My smile widened and I bit my lip as I took the proffered goods. The warmth from his fingers as they brushed against mine spread throughout my hands.

"I figured you'd be tired from being up so late," he explained, shrugging as if going miles out of the way for fancy coffee wasn't a big deal.

To boot, inside the bag was a toasted bagel with cream cheese. Starbuck's didn't toast.

"You got them to toast it?" I asked, eyebrow raised, "How'd you swing that?"

He shrugged again and pulled a second cup of coffee from the roof of his car. "I just asked nicely."

_Right._

I shook my head as he sipped his coffee and I took a bite of my bagel.

"Is it good?" he asked a few seconds later.

I just had to laugh.

"You know, your obsession with me eating is borderline manic," I quipped. "I eat every day. Like, a lot."

He shot me a crooked smirk, and something lit in his eyes. It reminded me of the night before, and I blushed.

"Prove it," he challenged.

_Prove that I eat?_

"Sit with me at lunch."

And so another morning was spent paying no attention to my classes as I daydreamed about Edward. I wondered what he thought our status was, and how he knew I liked medium cream and heavy sugar. At least this week there were a few things I was sure of. At least I knew how he kissed. My mind drifted back to the night before…

The music transformed him. That was easy enough to see. He'd been thawing out and gradually dropping his defenses all night, but from the opening notes of the set, he visibly relaxed. His lips melted into a smile that smacked sublime. His thumb stroked gently across the back of my hand. And his eyes—normally so sharp and attentive—lulled closed in intermittent surrender.

_You are beautiful._

I thought it over and over, marveling first at his pretty face until I admitted there was so much more. As the music swirled around us, I considered all I'd learned of him that night—what had been taken from him, where he learned to fend for himself, how he survived. I knew now that beneath that hard candy shell was a young man who had overcome bad circumstances to become a kind, sharp, witty, and decent human being. My mantra changed.

_You are extraordinary._

The music kept playing, spiraling me deeper into my trance; and when our eyes locked and we gazed unabashedly, it was right. What I saw in his eyes—respect, adoration, understanding—did not scare me. The promise of intimacy with him only drew me in. This man was touching me and looking at me and reaching me like no one ever had, like I'd never even wanted anyone else to do.

_Come with me._

And when he leaned in, so slowly, to share my breath, to caress my face and neck, he whispered something against my lips, like a secret. I had never been kissed like he kissed me then, as if he consumed me with every tug of lips and sweep of tongue. He was thorough and slow, but chillingly intense. I shuddered, wavering towards him when we pulled apart, our foreheads meeting again as we caught our breath. And, when he kissed me again, I was whole. I prayed, then, for continuation, for a future that stretched beyond this night, this kiss, this song.

_Never stop, Edward. Please, never stop._

**EPOV**

I wasn't a model student, but at least I paid attention in class. That is, until I got involved with Isabella Swan. French with Madame Smith was less than engaging on the best of days, but today, _je m'en fous_. I couldn't stop—didn't want to stop—reliving the most fantastic night of my life; the deepest connection, the most breathtaking kiss, and the most delicious promise for more.

We'd gotten in so late, but neither of us was tired. I would have driven another hundred miles for more time hearing her soft voice, more stories about her life, and the feeling of holding her hand. As we pulled up to Bella's house at 12:45 a.m., the lights were on downstairs. She rolled her eyes.

"He waited up." The front curtains rustled as she said the words.

I was afraid of this. Afraid that the watchful eye of the chief would block me from what I wanted to do. I wanted to walk her to her door and give her a long, proper kiss and tell her I hoped she'd let me take her out again soon. Since that was out of the question, I had to resort to Plan B: a subtler signal of my intentions.

"Can I borrow your iPod?"

Her eyebrows rose to her hairline. I must've really caught her off guard. Shutting down the part of myself that wanted to figure out whether there was some other obvious or appropriate thing I was supposed to say in this moment, I forged ahead with my plan.

"Bella," I chuckled in a way I hope concealed my nerves, "I was going to let you borrow mine. You keep trying to get at it, so I figured…"

I shrugged as she pieced it together, looking surprised, then smug.

"'Bout time you lent me yours. I was hours away from kidnapping it. There was gonna be a ransom note and everything."

I laughed now, for real. She made me do that a lot.

"Whatever, Swan. Just trade me now and we'll give them back next time."

"Next time?"

"You know…" I replied hopefully, not so much a statement as a question. "Next time we go out?"

She nodded and gave me one of those bit-lip smiles, and I resisted the urge to kiss her while she fished for her silver Nano. I wore a shit-eating grin as I helped her from the car, walked her to her front door, and gave her a regrettably brief hug.

"Good night, Bella." I kissed her forehead.

"Good night, Edward," she said sweetly.

I grinned all the way home.

Between how we left things the night before and my dad's advice this morning, my mission was clear: ask Bella out. But I was too nervous at lunch (I wasn't crazy about doing it in front of an audience), and once we got to Bio I knew it would be lame to do it again via passed note, so I played it cool and chatted her up about other stuff. I tested her, too, with little touches and outgoing gestures, searching for confirmation that she still wanted my attention. By the end of Bio, I was fairly certain she'd say yes to my proposition, so I asked if I could walk her to her next class.

"So, do you have plans on Wednesday? Like, right after school?"

I couldn't wait until the weekend to get her alone. She set her mouth like someone pretending to think.

"Other than rearranging all the songs on your iPod? No."

My answering glare was only half-joking. She, of course, laughed.

"Don't blow a gasket, Cullen—I'm just kidding."

"Not funny, Isabella," but I was half-smiling now.

She nudged me playfully as we walked.

"So do you want to hang out with me on Wednesday, or what?" I asked feigning mild impatience before softening my voice. "I thought we could chill for a few hours, maybe listen to some music…"

More than a few passing students were taking notice of us now, though I doubted they could hear our conversation.

"It depends," she said, stopping in front of her classroom.

"Are you gonna come up with a condition _every_ time I ask you on a date?" I asked honestly, with deliberate mirth in my voice.

Her eyes widened for a second before her face melted into a smile.

"Tell me your happy song from this morning," she demanded.

_That's her condition? _I shook my head and smiled.

"Gimme my iPod," I said.

"No way!" she retorted. "I have it 'til Wednesday."

"So you _are_ going out with me?" I smiled.

"Only if you tell me your happy song," she insisted.

"Then, gimme my iPod!" I laughed.

"Who's on first," she stated indignantly.

Now I was really laughing. This girl was _funny_.

"Bella," I said slowly, as if I were talking to a child. "If you give me my iPod for just a second, I will put the song on for you."

Recognition dawned on her face as she handed it over, looking slightly sheepish. She put the ear buds in as I located the song. The bell was about to ring.

"See you Wednesday, Bella."

Yeah, I know. I'd see her tomorrow. Hopefully chat with her tonight, even. But I wanted her to start thinking about Wednesday already—wanted it to consume her every thought like it would consume mine. Her answering blush sent confidence surging through me. I winked as I pressed play.

* * * * *

**Chapter End Notes: **

Thanks to those of you let me know you voted for me in the Moonlight Awards and The Sparkle Awards. There are some great fics nominated in all of the categories, so head on over and start reading!

The iPod Award for best musically-inspired fic (The Moonlight Awards: themoonlightawards(dot)yolasite(dot)com/nominees(dot)php) - voting ends 11/5

The Imprint Award for best original plot (The Sparkle Awards: www(dot)thesparkleawards(dot)webs(dot)com/nominees(dot)htm) – voting ends 11/8

**Meanwhile, a question:** where do you think Bella will take Edward on their date?


	10. In a Little While

**A/N: **It's an extra-long chapter, and do you know who you have to thank? My brilliant betas, _**Sassenach Wench**_ and _**Gondolier**_. I thought the chapter was finished and they were both like, "you know you're missing a critical scene, right?" So in Chapter 10 you will see the first APOV.

**Points of clarification:** Edward's happy song last chapter was Baba O'Reilly. Sorry if that wasn't clear!

**Warning:** I know some folks have commented on how sweet this story is and how you love their innocent romance, but it is rated M/NC-17 for a reason. I made it clear in earlier chapters that neither Edward nor Bella is virginal. Please abandon this fic if you are disturbed by sexual themes, or if you are under the age of 18.

**A news update:** I have posted a song list for my author auction as part of the Fandom Gives Back. For $50, a bidder will win a 25-song soundtrack to Facebook Friends. If the bidder already owns any of the songs on the soundtrack, she may switch them out for other songs mentioned in the fic. If the bidder has all of the songs mentioned in the fic, I will buy her 25 songs of her choice. Songs will be delivered by iTunes, of course. See the link for details: http://www(dot)twilighted(dot)net/forum/viewtopic(dot)php?f=44&t=6763&p=783517#p783517

Special love to _**Helena Handbasket**_. She's on my friend list :)

* * * * *

**Chapter 10 – In a Little While**

_In a little while_

_Surely you'll be mine_

_In a little while I'll be there_

_In a little while_

_This hurt will hurt no more_

_I'll be home, love!_

_When the night takes a deep breath_

_And the daylight has no air_

_If I crawl, if I come crawling home_

_Will you be there?_

_- __**"In a Little While"**__ by U2_

**APOV (Tuesday Before School)**

Bella clutched the door grip as I veered into the Chevron lot at a speed that some might consider fast. We were running a little early, so I figured I'd fill my tank. I screeched to a stop and hopped out to pump gas. No sooner had I dipped my card than did Bella emerge with a yawn, no doubt to head into the mini-mart for coffee.

"Tranquilizer shot?" she offered sardonically.

It had become our little joke. Bella was too polite not to offer to get me something if she was grabbing something for herself, but she'd banned me from caffeine. I flipped her the bird, earning a little laugh as she turned and walked into the store. I was smiling myself as I chose a high octane grade and stuck the nozzle in the opening of the tank. Leaning against my car, I let the gas flow, shifting my eyes to watch my friend as she moved through the store.

_She's so happy with him_

Her face said it all. It brightened by lumens with her smile. I always saw there was something between them, but I hadn't known it would be this strong. Jasper said he could feel that they were in love. I was certain they'd end up together, but Bella was still unsure of so many things.

Not just with Edward, that girl had a serious confidence problem. She lived life on the outside, listening to her music and reading her books, standing on the sidelines at roller derby, always a bridesmaid but never a bride. I'd been trying for ages to pull her out of her shell. Yet, Edward was somehow doing it, and I loved him for that. Any true friend of Bella's was a true friend of mine.

A big old noisy truck pulled in on the other side of the filling island, blocking my view of Bella and the mart. As they exited the cab, I recognized the voices of two boys from our school.

"What do you expect, man? No one had a chance at popping that cherry but Cullen. I'm just glad he's doing it now so the rest of us can have a turn."

_They're talking about Bella!_

"I don't know, dude. He looks pretty into her. You might be waiting awhile to hit that."

I stood, mortified, as I heard the little beeps of the machine, as they went through the motions to get gas. I couldn't see their faces from over the station, which meant they couldn't see mine.

"Of course he looks into her—it's all part of the act. He can turn it on and off like a faucet. I'd almost admire the guy if he wasn't such a douche."

My eyes filled up with angry tears, and I prayed that Bella was still in the store.

"He's smooth alright, but I still think you're wrong. Sure, he wants to fuck her—shit, everyone wants to fuck her—but dating women isn't his M.O."

When the first guy laughed, I wanted to fucking kill him. I heard the metallic click that signaled my own tank was full. I entertained a brief fantasy of yanking the nozzle free and dousing these assholes with gasoline. No need to light them on fire. I'd settle for a chemical burn.

"Care to place a small wager?" the first one asked.

I gasped. By then, they were getting back in the truck.

"The usual amount?" asked the second.

It took effort not to scream as they started the engine and drove out of the lot, taking the turn that led toward the school. But as my eyes gained focus on Bella's shrunken form (she was standing behind where they'd been), I knew we wouldn't follow. We wouldn't make it to first period. We needed to have a talk. Driving in silence, I took us to an out-of-the-way park. It was too early for moms to be out with their kids. I let her lead the way—she walked us to the swings. We swayed gently, and I let her begin.

"I need to you to tell me everything again, Alice. And, not your interpretation—I need the facts."

I'd once told her about him, months ago when she first arrived. I supposed she was right to ask.

"During freshman year, Edward slept with the Homecoming Queen. They were caught in someone's bedroom, over spring break, at a party. They weren't together—it was just a fuck. But it didn't matter. He was freshman that bedded the most popular girl in school, and it turned him into an idol. He got instant cred with the freshmen and sophomores. By graduation, he was running with this kid, James. James wasn't jock-popular. He was bad boy popular. And he taught Edward everything he knew."

"It started the summer before our sophomore year, the summer before James' senior year. And it wasn't just Edward, Bella—Emmett and Jasper were like that, too. I was never part of that crowd, so I never went to any of their parties or saw anything firsthand. But, whatever he did or didn't do with them, he left damage in his wake. I saw one girl he supposedly slept with curse him out in the middle of the hallway and another turn a cafeteria tray over his head. It made all the rumors credible. Emmett and Jasper got the same, but to a lesser degree. The leader always seemed to be Edward."

"James graduated last year and everyone figured Edward would become king bad boy, even though he's only a junior. But Emmett started dating Rose over the summer, and Jasper and Edward toned it down. You've been here for six months, so you've seen the rest for yourself. People still talk, but it's nothing like it was."

She didn't speak for a long time, and we both swayed in small circles on the swings. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying more. I knew she had doubts and I itched for her to ask the next logical question. I waited, impatiently, for her to open the door.

"Why all of a sudden?"

_Huh. I didn't expect that._

"Jasper's been following you like a puppy for ages," she continued. "But out of the blue, Edward suddenly likes me. It just doesn't make sense."

Her confusion was genuine. I could see it on her face.

"Don't edit history, Bella," I chided gently. "It's not out of the blue. I told you for months that Edward had a thing for you, just like you said the same about Jasper. The only recent thing is that both of them stopped being freaks about it and manned up to ask us out."

She looked skeptical.

"But, doesn't it bother you to know that Jasper used to be…"

She was too polite to say it.

"A manwhore?" I supplied. "We've talked about it, and he's not proud. But he can't change his past, and neither can Edward. People aren't perfect, Bella. But they do learn, and they can change."

And, here came the real fear.

"But what if Edward hasn't changed? What if he's exactly the same, and I'm just too naive to see it?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Edward is not the same, Bella. He walks you to class and sends you candy-grams at pep rallies. He hands you coffee and a bagel in front of the whole school. He flirts with you on Facebook and makes you playlists and takes you to concerts in Seattle."

"Maybe it's part of the act," she said, her voice empty and mechanical as she quoted asshole number one.

"Maybe you're different, since dating women isn't part of his standard M.O." I shot back pointedly, quoting asshole number two.

She sighed.

"Look, Bella. I know you're scared. Being in love is scary. But you can't fight the fear with sabotage. You can't write him off or judge him for who he used to be. Decide whether you want him based on who he is today. And, let me venture a guess: you've never caught him in a lie. And he's never done anything suspicious."

She gave a confirming, albeit reluctant, nod.

"Then, stop condemning him, Bella. Let him be innocent until proven guilty."

**BPOV (Tuesday Lunch)**

I was trying desperately not to laugh out loud at the things Edward whispered in my ear, but his running commentary on Jasper and Alice was too funny. They sat across from us at the lunch table heavily immersed in the sickly sweet oblivion reserved for the deeply in love. Over the past week we'd witnessed our share of minor PDAs, but they were starting to forget they were in public. At present, Edward and I were each eating our own slices of pizza while Jasper and Alice shared the same one.

"Cheese pizza, $3.00," Edward said quietly between bites in a commercial-announcer voice.

We watched as Jasper took his own small bite before angling the slice to feed Alice. I hid my smile behind my napkin, sharing a brief knowing look with Edward as I pretended to wipe my mouth.

"Side of tater tots, $2.00," he continued dramatically when Jasper squeezed a thick bead of ketchup from a little Heinz packet onto a crispy tot. Jasper smiled sensually as he pushed it through Alice's waiting lips and nipped a nonexistent ketchup remnant from his finger.

By then I was giggling under my breath and looking back at Edward's sage-colored eyes which now sparkled beautifully with mirth. He had an extraordinary ability to keep his face neutral, which made his hint of a smile even sexier.

"Pudding cup, $1.50." he said, his voice still smooth.

I looked behind my shoulder at the mention of the pudding cup, knowing what was about to happen but needing to see it myself. I felt my chair turn slightly and I realized that Edward had angled me away from their view, and in doing so pulled me towards him. My tiny gasps as I caught my breath were suddenly filled with more of his wonderful scent.

"Having sex with your clothes on in the middle of a crowded lunch room…"

My head fell onto his shoulder as I snorted quietly. He now shook, I realized, in laughter.

"Priceless," he gasped.

I grasped his forearm, still trying to keep it together. The hard muscle under his soft skin felt better than nice. After taking a moment to collect ourselves, I glanced back at Jasper and Alice. They remained oblivious.

"Unbelievable," I muttered, wiping an escaped tear and smiling back up at Edward. His façade had broken, and now he was grinning—that crooked, beautiful grin.

"I don't know what _you two_ think is so funny," came Rosalie's voice from the other side of the table. "You're almost as bad as they are."

Her lips were curled in her signature smirk. Only Emmett was laughing now.

She was right, of course. Edward and I had grown close. Despite my fears about him, when we were together, he almost made me forget. It now felt natural to walk together to class, to text every day and Facebook every night. A few people thought we were collateral to the Jasper and Alice romance, but to astute observers like Rose, that was clearly not the case. From the fact that we'd never so much as held hands in public, I'd thought we were being discreet. But, between those assholes at the gas station and Rose's comment now, I fully grasped that people were taking notice.

If it were only his past that sounded alarms, I bet I could get over that. Alice had brushed my other worry aside when I'd mentioned it earlier--Edward and I had history of our own. It was easy to forget that things between us hadn't always felt so right, but the facts could not be denied. Our burgeoning friendship hadn't reached its tenth day. Yet, for the six months before that, there'd been nothing. Not a word during class. Barely a civil response to my attempts at being nice. On the rare occasion he had actually looked at me, it felt like a glare.

Then, suddenly, one day he decided he wanted to me my friend. And instead of telling him where he could stick his friendship, I let him. Things felt great for now, but the questions remained: What had prompted his change of heart?

The easiest assumption to make was that the gossip was true, that people had seen him do this before. It was totally inconsistent with the Edward of the past ten days, but it rang possible for the Edward of the past six months. "Ten days" Edward made me feel like I was someone special, and making the nice gir" feel special was the oldest trick in the book. Maybe he'd figured out I wouldn't give asshole Edward a chance, and had taken a different tack—getting to me through my music. He was so charismatic that I was fairly sure everyone who he graced with his attention felt special. Maybe this had worked for him before, his charm so overwhelming that the others ignored the about face.

But I didn't want to make the easiest assumption, and not just because Alice had persuaded me. There was more than just me at stake. The Jasper/Alice union had married our cliques, and any serious rift between Edward and me would spell trouble. It made me wish I knew where we stood. I resented games (if that's what this was) and I just wanted him to be real with me. I would rather he tell me straight if he was just after a fuck or if he was making an effort with me out of boredom. It had occurred to me I may have been the next natural choice for a companion since he'd lost his best friend to mine.

And what about the other explanation, the one I barely even let myself consider: what if I wasn't just a conquest? What if he wanted more? What if he wanted what I did? I'd never had one before, but this was how it was supposed to work. Guys you were attracted to and liked a lot became _boyfriends_. I hated myself for even wishing for something like that when I had so many other serious doubts. Maybe I could avoid the fact that I liked him altogether. Maybe we could be friends with benefits…

The end of lunch and the walk to Bio were mostly uneventful. I tried to be normal, but these thoughts plagued my mind. Halfway through class, Edward slipped me a note.

_**Are you OK? You're totally spacing.**_

I gave him a little nod and tried to smile convincingly. He didn't look convinced. He took back his paper and scribbled another note.

_**Would you tell me if you weren't?**_

When I looked back at him, he was blatantly ignoring the lecture, his face somewhat worried and sad. I grabbed the paper, not wanting to look in his eyes for fear he would see too much.

_**Probably.**_

It wasn't a lie. This issue aside, I would tell him what was bothering me. _Yeah, I'm pretty screwed,_ I thought once again as I pretended to re-engage in the lecture. I pretended not to notice him watching me from the corner of my eye, felt the wheels turning in his head. Minutes later, he wrote another message and slid it to me slowly.

_**You can talk to me about anything, Bella.**_

If only I _could_ talk to him about this. I could see the note I might pass back to him now: Do you like me for real or are you stringing me along? No bullshit. Circle one: Yes or No. But instead of writing _that _note, I just mouthed my thanks, no clearer on what to do.

* * * * *

**EPOV (Wednesday)**

It was the middle of seventh period and afterschool couldn't come soon enough. In ninety minutes, we'd be leaving for our date. I'd spent every free minute that week hanging out, texting, and chatting with Bella, but I couldn't wait to get her alone. She was always on my mind—when I woke up, when I fell asleep; I even spent yesterday afternoon in NICU telling the babies I cuddled about her. I'd been dropping hints all week that I was very, very interested, but I didn't know where we stood.

Foo Fighters concert notwithstanding, I got the sense she wasn't the PDA type, so I'd kept things at school subtle and clean. But I did start touching her more and getting close into her space, and she never flinched or shied away. She blushed when I whispered in her ear, she let me walk her to class—I even carried her books once or twice. She didn't stop me on Tuesday when I snaked fries from her lunch tray and when she finished her Coke, she started drinking mine. As an added bonus, the boys at school seemed to be getting the picture. Her usual cadre of hopeful suitors had backed off. But I got the sense that something was wrong. I wished I knew what it was.

_**I'm bored**_

I glanced down at my phone, which had vibrated with her text. When I pictured her bored face, I smiled.

_**At least Mr. Ruda's class is just boring. Mrs. Gerardi's voice grates on my nerves**__, _I replied.

I tried to look engaged as I waited for her text. Surreptitiously texting in class was an art.

"_**Just" boring? If I had a suicide pill in my pocket, I'd use it. I can't take this anymore!**_

I stifled a laugh. I had an idea.

_**Please Miss Swan, not that! Perhaps I can come to your aid…**_

I fired off the text before slipping my phone in my pocket and raising my hand.

"Yes, Mr. Cullen?" Mrs. Gerardi ground out in her annoyingly high voice. I plastered on a charming smile and tried not to wince.

She was thirty-five and married, albeit to a younger man, and known to be quite the puma. Emmett, Jasper and I had compared notes and she'd hit on all three of us. This would be embarrassingly easy.

"May I be excused early, Mrs. Gerardi? I have a dentist appointment at three."

Her eyes traveled my body. She liked it when I raised my hand to speak. It gave her an excuse to look.

"Yes, go ahead Edward. And bring a note next time."

Her answering smile was almost flirtatious.

"Thank you." I smiled sweetly as I gathered my things, dodging hostile, knowing glances from the other students as I walked out.

* * * * *

**BPOV**

It was date day with Edward, and the clock couldn't tick fast enough. Even under the best of circumstances it would have felt like a long wait. But these weren't the best of circumstances. I fucking hated this class. And there were still twenty minutes left. I had texted Edward to help pass the time, but he'd dropped off to "come to my aid." I couldn't imagine what he could do, short of pulling a fire alarm, to get me out of this hell. I was busy doodling elaborate graffiti—things like "EC+BS" and "Kill Me Now." Then I'd scribble all over it, lest anyone else ever find it, only to start again on the next blank corner of page.

The phone in the classroom rang and the students let out a collective sigh. How long could we listen to Mr. Ruda drone on about the Lend-Lease Act? The man never asked questions or engaged the class to participate. There were times he even read aloud from the book!

"Miss Swan?" he said, fixing his eyes on me even before hanging up the phone, "Please see Mrs. Cope in the office, and take your things. You have an early dismissal."

_No fucking way_, I thought, as I packed up my bags and headed into the hall.

Through the glass doors of the office, I saw Edward leaning over and chatting up Mrs. Cope. They were laughing as if they were old friends. I pushed the door open cautiously. She didn't notice. But Edward noticed me right away.

"Bella, you're so silly sometimes. How could you forget again?" he asked in a playfully patronizing voice, punctuating his question with a wink. "I was just telling Mrs. Cope how you make us late every time."

I was a little slow to the uptake, but my response was convincing, especially my signature blush.

"You know how I hate to leave early from History. Mr. Ruda's lecture was so interesting, I forgot to look at the clock." I looked at Mrs. Cope. "Sorry you had to call me out of class."

"No problem, dear. Edward explained the whole situation. You'd better get started if you want to make your appointments. Good dental hygiene is very important," she lectured gently, beaming over at Edward. "You wouldn't want cavities to ruin your smile."

"Thank you again, Mrs. Cope. You're a real life saver," he smiled, knocking the desk once before ushering me out.

As soon as we were in the parking lot, he grabbed my book bag from my arm and slung it over his opposite shoulder before sliding his hand into mine. He bit back a grin, saying nothing 'til we got into his car.

"To Port Angeles, Ms. Swan?" he asked like a chauffeur.

"Is that where our dentist appointments are_, Ferris_?" I smirked.

"Yes. We schedule our monthly check-ups back to back so we can carpool to Port Angeles."

"How lovely of us to reduce our carbon footprint," I smirked. "And, _monthly_ appointments? We must have the cleanest teeth in Forks."

"Good dental hygiene is very important, Bella."

I just shook my head as we sped out of the lot, resenting and loving how he put me at ease.

"So, where are we going?"

"I told you—Port Angeles. Though I may have stretched the truth about our destination."

The next hour was spent in comfortable conversation, but I began to quiet as we got into town. Edward navigated streets in an offbeat neighborhood I had never seen. It was near a boat marina, but away from the most popular shopping streets. The shops here were less upscale than the ones I went to with Alice. As he pulled over to park, I figured out where we were going.

"Plastic Fantastic?" I smirked at the name, pleased.

"Have you ever been here?" he asked, sounding hopeful that I hadn't.

I shook my head. "I didn't even know this was here."

"I think you're gonna love it," he said, smiling excitedly at me. "I practically live here on weekends."

Before I had my seatbelt off, he was at my door, taking my hand as he helped me from the car. He didn't let it go as we walked through the front door, speaking rather than waving his hello to the store clerk that greeted him by name. Plastic Fantastic turned out to be an enormous record store that sported thousands (perhaps tens of thousands) of LPs. I stood near the door in wonder, having only ever seen stores like this in movies, yet feeling completely at home.

"Do you own any vinyl?" Edward asked, noticing my reaction.

"I used to. Or at least my mom did."

He showed me around the store, teaching me about how to buy vinyl, telling me how the sign of a great music store was organization. I lost sense of time as we browsed together, picking out titles I remembered listening to with my mom. By the time we reached the counter, arms laden with records, it occurred to me that for someone who didn't have a record player, I was planning to buy quite a lot. Edward gave me a quizzical look as I set my choices on the counter.

"Do you mind if we take number three?" he asked the clerk.

"It's all yours," the clerk said, handing Edward a key.

Edward scooped up my records as well as his own and nodded his head towards some stairs. I followed him up and was met by four numbered rooms.

_Listening booths_, I realized with delight.

Following Edward through the door of the second one, I saw these were no regular booths. They were small rooms, each with a record player and two chairs, and they were glass-enclosed all the way around. The placement on the second floor right over the water made it so we could not only listen to records but also look out at the bay.

"What do you think?" he asked, sounding a bit nervous.

I turned to him and smiled.

"I can see why you live here on weekends."

* * * * *

**EPOV**

In so many ways, it was the perfect date. I'd impressed her at every turn. I'd broken her out of her Mr. Ruda-induced jail. I'd sounded smooth when we talked throughout the drive. I'd been in effervescent awe of the sublime look on her face as we listened to music at Plastic Fantastic. I'd taken her to a café for a snack. Now, it was almost sunset and I'd driven her to another place I came to all the time.

It was an Oceanside bluff I stumbled across months before while exploring inside one of the many state parks. My favorite spot had a few picnic tables that were predictably empty this time of year. I'd brought a big blanket for us to cuddle under and that was exactly what we were doing. I leaned against the narrow end of the picnic table with Bella's back to my front. The dark gray wool blanket was pulled across the back of my body and I circled her in my arms.

It was both comforting and terrifying, how we molded together so easily, how we fell into this comfortable silence. Yet, for as close as I felt to her when we were like this, the sacred connection was fleeting. We stared out at the ocean, at the hint of the descending twilight, the cool wind chilling our faces. I fell into a rare calm as I felt more than listened to her breathe against my chest, and I couldn't stop the words.

"You're such a mystery, Bella."

It was a source of both pain and intrigue. I loved everything that made her different, but desperately feared I would never fully understand her. I was so used to people being transparent to me, and sometimes she closed herself off.

"Are you kidding?" she asked, letting loose a mellow chuckle. "You pepper me with questions and I answer them all. You, on the other hand, give away nothing."

I tried not to let her words sting. I'd showed her everything that mattered about me. The rest was superficial. If could just show her she was the only one…

"Hey, I'm sorry." She broke me out of my thoughts.

"You don't have to apologize, Bella."

I didn't want her to apologize to me for anything. Hadn't I just wished for her to not censor herself with me?

"No, I do have to," she insisted, closing her eyes for a moment, as if pained. "I know you've told me some really important things about you. But there's other stuff—lots of it—that I just don't understand."

"Tell me, please."

I tried to make it sound like I wasn't begging, but I was.

"You're just…not who I thought you'd be."

Oh. That.

"Based on what people say about me?"

It was stupid, but I'd never considered what she thought of my reputation. For one and a half weeks, I'd been so wrapped up in her that I'd forgotten about the others.

"That, and…no offense, but we sat next to each other for months and you never noticed me at all."

How could I say this?

"I _always _noticed you, Bella," I said with conviction. "But I was too stupid and too shy to approach you. And it wasn't just you I ignored—by the time you moved to Forks, I had pretty much written off everyone but Emmett and Jasper."

She nodded slightly, not without hesitation as she let my words sink in.

"So, what made you?" she asked. "Why did you change your mind?"

_I didn't. Emmett changed my mind for me_, I absolutely could not say. It wasn't only that I couldn't force the words out—somehow I just knew the real story would change things. So I told a lie of omission.

"It took strength to stay away from you, Bella. I didn't have the strength to stay away from you anymore."

I didn't know whether to be disgusted or relieved by how convincing I sounded. Unsure of whether I could lie any more, I cut her off before she could respond.

"Here's the thing, Bella. I let people think what they want to think because I don't care about them or what they say about me. But I do care about you. And you know me, Bella. If I've let anyone know me, it's been you."

She nodded again, looking slightly convinced, but still a little sad. I had to assure her.

"I've never brought any girl to watch the sun set, or taken any girl to Plastic Fantastic. Before Sunday, I never went on a date or met a girl's dad. I never wanted to call anybody my girlfriend."

Her breathing caught.

"You know me, Bella" I insisted once again. "Tell me what you do know about me, Bella. You know a lot."

_Please, Bella_, I thought as my heartbeat quickened. I needed this to work.

"Well, you have phenomenal taste in music. You love your car."

She bit her lip.

"For some strange reason, you're obsessed with feeding me…"

I saw the corner of her mouth turn up in a smile.

"What else?" I whispered, beginning to relax a little, but needing her to keep going.

"You have a weird sense of humor. You pay attention to, like, everything. And you seem to like keeping me warm."

_She really doesn't get it._

"Is that really all you know about me, Bella? I thought I gave so much more away."

I tightened my arms around her again, glad she was looking out at the ocean.

"I was sure you noticed how much I laugh when I'm with you."

I could see she didn't totally believe it.

"…and how much I love making you blush."

She did just that. My heartbeat quickened as I debated whether to say it. She had such an impairing effect on my judgment…

"And on Sunday, it should've been pretty obvious that I could die happy from kissing you."

Though she tensed slightly at first, after a second, her body leaned closer into mine.

"How can I believe you didn't know those things?" I asked desperately as I dropped a kiss below her ear.

Her eyes fell shut and her breathing changed, and I knew that now was my time. She didn't resist as I turned her in my arms, and she opened her brown eyes to meet mine. She said nothing, only tipped up her chin. It was the only invitation I needed.

In the three days since I'd known her luscious mouth, I'd thirsted for her kiss. My greed to devour her found me kissing her deeply. My need to have her found me pulling her body flush against mine. This time there were no first kiss jitters, no cocktail table or awkward sitting position to keep us apart. This time, we were all alone—no need to be discreet—no reason not to let my hand slide over the curve of her bottom. By the time I came up for air, catching my breath as I nipped her ear, her jaw, her neck, I realized that our "kiss" had escalated by fathoms. It wasn't until my mind followed the throbbing source of my pleasure that I realized I was painfully, conspicuously, hard.

I pushed her hips away slightly (I couldn't pull back, as I was leaning on the table), but she protested loudly—not saying a word but grinding her pelvis into mine. And then her hands were in my hair and her eyes were filled with lust and she captured my lips one more time.

_Fuuuuuuck!_

I learned much about my Bella as the sun set that day. I memorized the taste of her skin. I became intimately familiar with the curve of her breast and the sound of her whimpering moan. I knew the whisper of my name on her lips. And I then learned something else: when it came to the lies they told about Bella, her rap was as bogus as mine.

My almost-girlfriend was anything but frigid or prudish. She was sensual and alive. She kissed like she had invented the art, and her touch made me purr. At times I pulled back, in case she needed space, but she proved she didn't want it. Bella seemed to want me as much as I wanted her. So much for taking it slow.

* * * * *

**Chapter End Notes: **

Still a few more days to vote in the Sparkle Awards, where Facebook Friends is nominated for The Imprint Award for best original plot (The Sparkle Awards: www(dot)thesparkleawards(dot)webs(dot)com/nominees(dot)htm) – voting ends 11/8

Thanks, as always, for your great reviews! I appreciate each and every one of them.

**Oh, snap! All of Bella's doubts came to the surface :) Were you gearing up to throw tomatoes at me?** **Circle one: YES or NO**


	11. Is It Okay if I Call You Mine?

**A/N: **Yes, fans. It has been awhile.I have suffered a terrible lack of motivation around this fic. It may have something to do with the onset of winter blues (me + cold and overcast = not a good mix), but it mostly has to do with the fact that I was pretty sick for about two weeks. Alas, I have returned with new vim and vigor. And, trust me, you'll be glad I didn't force myself out of writer's block to give you this chapter. What the muse gave me, once she finally returned, was much, much better :) Oh, and if you have not heard the song mentioned in the title of this fic, it is an oldie but a goodie, and you can find it in its entirety on , and follow me there while you're at it!

Oh, yeah—and you all know the score with my betas. You know, Gondolier and SassenachWench, who keep all my stuff from completely sucking? Don't thank me, thank them. I do :)

**Chapter 11 – Is It Okay if I Call You Mine?**

_Is it okay if I call you mine? Just for a time?_

_And I will be just fine_

_If I know that you know that I'm_

_Wanting, needing your love._

_Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa._

_If I ask of you is it alright_

_If I ask you to hold me tight_

_Through a cold, dark night_

'_Cause there may be a cloudy day in sight_

_And I need to let you know that I might_

_Be needing your love._

_-"Is it Okay if I Call You Mine?" by Paul McCrane_

_(from the soundtrack to the 1980 movie version of "Fame")_

* * * * *

**EPOV (Wednesday Night)**

It had only been four hours since I dropped her off at home, but already I missed her fiercely. By the time I gathered the courage to pick up the phone and call, it was past 11 o'clock. Dogged by disappointment, I settled for second best: a look at whether she'd updated her Facebook page. Defaulting to my favorite guilty pleasure when I saw she had not, I went straight to the pictures on her profile.

My favorite, the one of her with a guitar in a cracked desert surrounded by canyons, always made me smile. A light sprinkling of freckles speckled her nose, a contented little smile puckered her lips, the rise of stray wisps of her long hair told of a dry wind, and she looked straight at the camera. The guitar was shiny and black, and it deepened her eyes—a perfect contrast against the reds and oranges of the desert. I had studied the picture for hours, and I would study it again. It always took me to sweet dreams.

After I'd had my fill and was about to log off, she updated her status.

_**Bella Swan is too keyed up to sleep**_

…so I sent her a note on chat…

_**Edward Cullen: Me, too. There's someone I can't get off my mind.**_

…but she was so adorable, and I'd missed her so much…

_**Bella Swan: (blushes)**_

…that I had to pick up the phone and call.

"Shall I hum you a lullaby?"

She laughed. I hadn't even waited for her to say a greeting.

"Tell the truth, Edward. Are you some kind of Stepford droid?"

I didn't know what the hell she was talking about with that, but in that moment I loved her voice. It was soft, perhaps so as not to wake up the chief. Either that or her mood changed when she was in bed. My dick got a little hard when I imagined what she must be wearing. I suppressed the urge to ask.

"What's wrong with lullabies?" I asked instead.

"If you sang me a lullaby it would fuel my suspicion that you're freakishly perfect."

"I play the piano, too."

"See? Now you're just trying to impress me."

"You caught me. Is it working?"

I held my breath.

"Yes."

_Euphoria._

"Will you come over one day so I can play for you?"

Her voice was low and sultry when she said, "Only if you show me your room."

My hand that wasn't holding the phone slid down to restrain my cock. _It's okay, boy_, I appeased it gently. _Don't freak out—she's only teasing_.

"Are you trying to kill me, Ms. Swan?"

"You caught me. Is it working?"

My chuckle held a hint of desperation. "At this rate, I'll be dead by Friday."

Our talk in Port Angeles had really moved the ball, and I was awed by this new side of Bella. It wasn't just the erotic undertones (though, those were very, very nice)—it felt more and more like she was being herself. I loved seeing evidence that she was getting more comfortable with me, loved the little ways she showed me her trust. I hadn't realized until today how much she'd held back, but now she was opening up.

"I guess I'd better hear you play tomorrow, then."

"Sorry, love." I said sadly, "I'm busy." The patients at the hospital need me.

"Maybe next week then." She sounded a little deflated.

Fuck next week.

"How about Friday? You could come over then."

"Aren't Fridays when you hang out with Jasper and Emmett? 'Bros before hos', and all…"

"Everyone can come over—we'll make it a triple date. Jazz and Em won't mind."

_Sound casual._

"You could even meet my parents."

_Act like it's not a big deal. Wait, no! Act like _it_ is a big deal. Because it is._

"They really want to meet you, Bella. They've been bugging me to have you over for dinner."

_Shit. That sounded like my parents wanted her there more than me._

"But I really want to have you for dinner, too."

_Seriously, Edward. Shut the fuck up._

"You told your parents about me?" Thank God she sounded more surprised than pissed off or weirded out.

"Of course I did." By then my voice had calmed.

"Alright, I'll come over. How about after school? You promised you'd play the piano."

And it hit me then. In just two days time, Bella would be serving more than a brief visit—I'd have her at my house for hours. She would eat in my dining room and sit next to me on my piano bench. She would enter the bat cave and touch all my things. She may even lie on my bed. Visions of her sprawled out and ready for me assaulted my mind as I thought of continuing where we'd left off earlier that day.

_Sweet Jesus…_

"And I will, love," I promised, struggling to keep the raging erection out of my voice. "But now that we have that settled, you should really be going to bed. I just called to say a quick good night."

"Good night, Edward." She yawned, her fatigue striking right on time. "Sweet dreams."

"I'll see you in the morning, my Bella."

We clicked off at the same time. I nearly ripped my boxers in my haste to get them off. This wouldn't take long at all. My dick should be sore from how often I'd been doing this, but the little devil couldn't get enough. This would be the fourth time today I'd had to relieve the pressure—the third time since I'd been home. Wanting Little Eddie to be in good enough condition for my morning romp in the shower, I wisely grabbed some lube.

I poured a large dab in the center of one hand and rubbed it against the other before intertwining my fingers and closing my palms around my cock. I screwed my eyes shut before twisting my wrists and taking a firm downward stroke. Making my hands heavy and my grip maddeningly snug, I imagined it was Bella's weight falling on my hips as she rode me slowly. Pivoting my wrists in alternation, I rounded slowly each time my hands stroked up. The indulgent moans that poured out of me each time my thumbs teased my head sent my back arching off of the bed.

"Bella," I grunted, as if I were pulling her body farther onto mine as I fucked her from underneath. And dream Bella hissed a sharp, affirming, "Yesss…" She screamed, 'yes, keep fucking me like that' and 'yes, this is all I need' and 'yes, Edward you are the only one who can make me feel this'. I held my cock firmly as my loud whimper let loose and I gushed all over my hand.

* * * * *

**BPOV (Friday Afternoon)**

"Ready, love?" Edward called to me warmly as he approached where Alice and I were sitting atop a picnic bench. He held out his hand in an offer to help me down. Ignoring the interested stares of our classmates, I kept my eyes on him. He didn't break his gaze until our hands were joined and his kiss brushed the top of my fingers.

"Your chariot awaits," he smiled as I stepped down from the bench and slung his arm over my shoulder. I didn't miss Alice's triumphant smile as I nuzzled into his neck. Once Jasper slung her messenger bag over his own shoulder and got Alice on piggyback, we four beat a lazy retreat across the quad and toward the cars.

"How were the paparazzi today?" Edward asked, protectively squeezing my shoulder.

In the past two days since we'd gone public with our relationship things had been unreal. The searing kiss he gave me in the parking lot the morning after Port Angeles had taken Forks High by storm. People passed me notes in class all morning on Thursday asking whether we were going out. Angela Weber snapped a candid of us and blushingly asked whether she could use it for the school paper. By lunch on Friday we laughed over what the rumor mill was saying. Alice liked talk of our secret engagement. I preferred speculation that I was a religious zealot who had converted Edward to join my cult.

Edward, for his part, seemed thrilled by the exposure. He'd kissed me deeply again this morning. At my puzzled look when we came up for air, he'd admitted to liking the idea that the whole school knew he was mine.

"_You want everyone to know you're mine?" I had repeated, unable to hide my smile._

"_Yes, Bella. I am yours," he had said, his eyes never leaving mine. _

And that was that.

"You didn't read it in _US Weekly_?" I asked in response to his paparazzi question. "I'm pregnant with your alien love child."

He laughed at that. "So I'm an alien now? That's a step up from yesterday. Cults kind of creep me out."

When we passed the two douches with the truck from the gas station, they were staring at Edward and me. I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue. Alice gave them the finger.

We went our separate ways then, Alice with Jasper and I with Edward. I'd been blissful all day, but my nervousness mounted as we approached his house. I was thrilled—and terrified—to meet his parents and spend time where he lived. I think he could tell I was nervous, which made him nervous, which made us both, well…nervous. I just hoped to hell my initial judgment of our worlds being too different turned out not to be true.

His house was modern and enormous, all light through glass and art. Yet, strangely, it felt like a home. Though I was certain that some of the paintings and trinkets I saw cost more than a brand new car, it seemed elegant rather than ostentatious and the design assembled to a perfect fit.

Grinning like a little boy as we approached the kitchen, he grabbed my hand to pull me forth.

"I smell cookies," he declared.

"Oatmeal chocolate chip?" I asked peering down at the delicious-looking biscuits on the plate.

He nodded reverent affirmation. "I fucking love my mom."

Pulling back the Saran Wrap, he pinched off a corner of the biggest cookie and held it up to my lips. My eyes rolled back and I moaned a little as I tasted the exquisite confection.

"You shouldn't make sounds like that when I have you alone, Bella. It's giving me ideas."

He was being playful, but his dark eyes and slightly strained voice made it clear that the words he was saying were true.

_I've been having ideas all along_, I wanted to say. But since I didn't want his parents' first impression to involve me getting jiggy with their son on their gorgeous granite countertop, I reined in my hormones and let him keep feeding us cookies.

"Thirsty, love?" he asked after we'd eaten half the plate.

No matter how often he used this new pet name, I couldn't help but to swoon. Only Edward could pull off something so Thurston Howell III, and I absolutely loved it.

"What do you have?" I asked casually, because casual had become my middle name. I was a study in exuding normalcy despite an inward state of perpetual bliss.

"Soda, purple stuff, Sunny D."

I chuckled. "How 'bout a glass of milk?"

By the time we resumed our tour of the downstairs, I was more at ease. When I laid eyes on the black Steinway in the music room, I smiled.

"Play for me?"

"Only if you sit next to me." I joined him on the bench.

What came next was the most hauntingly beautiful melody I couldn't help but feel I'd heard somewhere before. That I couldn't specifically remember when or where didn't stop me from begging him to keep playing. The swell of emotion this piece created in me was gratifyingly intense. I vacillated between rapturous surrender to the music itself and shock that my dark, tortured man hid something so beautiful. I was dimly aware of the day fading to dusk, and how we were still sitting close in the dark. His foot on the pedal made the last of the last notes linger. I felt loss when they faded away.

"Did you like your song, Bella?" His whisper was insecure.

Under other circumstances I might have laughed, but such thoughts stopped when he lifted his eyes. What I saw in them matched the intensity of his song and swept me deeper into his ocean. My own mirroring truth was so absolute I'd have declared it had I only the power of speech.

Pulling his hands off of the keys, I brought one to my arm and ran his fingers across my goosebumps. I swallowed thickly, gathering my courage. Our faces were so close I could feel his breath on my face.

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard," I confessed, not realizing we weren't alone.

"It's the most beautiful thing he's ever written," came a wise, delicate voice that had to belong to his mother.

I barely had time to register my shock that Edward had actually _composed_ the masterpiece I just heard.

"Mom, this is my girlfriend, Bella." He helped me off of the bench and as he spoke he smiled shyly and sounded proud. "Bella, this is my mom," he gestured in between us as we crossed to where his mother stood.

"It's such a pleasure to meet you, Bella," she exclaimed warmly, pulling me into a hug. "We're thrilled that you could come."

"It's nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Cullen," I said, still surprised at the gesture, even as we pulled away. "Thank you so much for having me."

In contrast to Edward's tall build, she stood slightly taller than me and was every bit as trim. The green of her eyes was a bit darker than his sage, and the bronze of her hair was more muted. But in their lips and their foreheads they looked alike and, like Edward, she was quite beautiful.

"Please, dear, call me Esme. At home, we're pretty informal."

She was striking, but not intimidating. Refined, but approachable. And, just like her house, the contrast worked. She pulled my hand from Edward's and hitched our arms as we climbed the stairs. She asked me if I was okay with veal for dinner and promised we'd be great friends.

"This must be Bella!" the second most gorgeous man I had ever seen exclaimed, placing the lid on a pot and wiping his hands as we walked into the kitchen. He took my hand from Esme and encased it in both of his, grasping them warmly in a light shake. "Welcome, Bella. I'm Edward's dad. Please call me Carlisle."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr.—Carlisle," I stammered with a blush.

"You didn't exaggerate, son," he beamed, shifting a proud gaze at Edward. "She's absolutely charming."

"Dad…" Edward said in a tone between a warning and a whine, but Carlisle ignored him and turned his attention back to me.

"We have a Beatles-only rule for dinnertime listening. Which would you prefer: _Revolver_ or _Abbey_ _Road_?"

"Do you have _The White Album_?" I asked, still shy. "That one's my favorite."

Carlisle smiled even more widely and placed a fatherly arm around me.

"Magnificent taste, my dear."

The hour that followed was a foray into something the likes of which I'd not witnessed before: a family sitting around the dinner table, laughing together, sharing a lovingly prepared meal. A single thought looped through my head like a mantra:

Do I really get to keep this?

I realized I wanted to keep it all. The clique full of beautiful people. My doting boyfriend who showed me off and wrote me songs. A surrogate family that was better than mine. I wanted to be sure. And though his recent validation had carried me far, I still held the tiniest remnants of doubt.

Edward had said all the right things and brought up some fair points two days before when we'd finally talked. But he also dazzled me into kissing him before we really finished talking-the longer that sat with me, the less I liked it. If there really was a good explanation for my lingering questions (like, where did he disappear off to on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and why didn't anyone else seem to know? And what did he do to all those girls last year to make them hate him so much?) now would be the time to clue me in. Because I really wanted to keep this, and I needed him to keep giving me affirmations that what I so dearly wanted could really be mine.

* * * * *

**EPOV**

"I hope they didn't embarrass you too much," I whispered apologetically in Bella's ear as we climbed the stairs.

Rose, Emmett, Alice and Jasper had just shown up, and we were all headed up to my room.

"For the record, though I happen to agree with my mother, I did not encourage her to take an interest in your shampoo-commercial hair or your flawless complexion."

She smirked back at me.

"Any embarrassment I suffered at your parent's hands was worth the look on your face when the baby pictures came out. Wittle Eddie was so cuuuute!"

Her little hand reached out to pinch my blushing cheek, and Emmett snickered loudly. I felt smug satisfaction when my reaching out to smack him earned a smirk from Rose.

"Besides," she said, "we're even now. I owed you one after Charlie."

_Fucking right you did_, I thought indignantly as I squeezed my girl's hand.

Heedless of the others as we walked into my room, I watched for Bella's reaction. Part of me was afraid she'd freak when she saw all my stuff. So far, with the house and the cars and all the antiques, she seemed a little overwhelmed. Relief washed over me when she scanned the room and smiled.

"Welcome to the bat cave," I said finally, ushering them all in. "Home to our Friday nights."

"Why do you call it 'the bat cave'?" Alice asked, flitting across the room, starting to check out all of my stuff.

"'Cause Bruce Wayne here is all dark and mysterious, and this place is like his _lair._"

_Fucking Emmett._

"I thought you guys just hung out and played video games." Rose eyed my monster computer set-up speculatively. "This place looks wired to initiate DefCon 5."

"Actually, Rosalie, Emmett's quite fond of my computer…" I said suggestively.

_Take that, fucker!_

"I'm sure he'd be happy to give you a tour."

Turning away before I could catch the receiving end of Emmett's death stare, I fixed my eyes back on my Bella.

"Shall I kick your ass at Guitar Hero now?" I smiled wickedly.

Her smile was sweet. "You can certainly try."

An hour and a half later, we'd abandoned the video games and were paired off in various spots in the room: Emmett and Rose on the couch, Alice in Jasper's lap on the computer chair and Bella and I propped up on our stomachs and elbows on the bed.

_Yeah. I know._

Sick of Jazz and Em handing me my ass about Bella's epic Guitar Hero win, I changed the subject to what we'd be doing the following night.

"So what is roller derby, anyway?"

By then, I was the only non-initiate. Even Jasper had done his research. Rose and Alice's team were up against Port Angeles and the rest of us were going to watch the bout.

"Soft porn," Emmett mumbled reverently, which of course earned him another smack.

"_Shut up_. It's a serious game." Rosalie turned to me then. "The object of the game is for one player on each team to score as many times as possible in a two minute period. That one player—the jammer—scores a point each time she can lap a group of blockers."

"Get to the good part, babe," Emmett whined, "Tell him about _the names_."

My interest was piqued when Jasper loosed a deep chuckle. Even Bella was laughing.

_The names?_

Jasper pointed at Alice and Rose.

"When you hear 'Alice Commando' and 'Anita Reason' called onto the rink, the announcer is talking about _them_."

By the time they were on about the finer points of the game I had completely lost interest. I blamed Bella, who was curled next to me in the most appealing way as she scrolled through the music on my iPod.

"What are we listening to next, love?"

I rested my head on her shoulder and kissed under her ear.

"I like the songs on this one playlist called 'Beautiful'," she said.

Her perfect oblivion as she went through the business of scrolling through made me just _have to_ say what I said next.

"You should, love," I admitted so only she could hear. "Those songs make me think of you. That's how I came up with the playlist name. _Bella_. _Beautiful_."

Her finger stilled on the iPod and I felt her take a deep breath.

"Why do you say such sweet things?" she whispered, sliding her deep brown eyes up to mine.

"I only say what I feel."

It was true. Gone were the days of me hiding how I felt. She was giving me a look like she gave me when I'd played for her. I hoped I was right about what I thought it meant.

"What do you feel right now?" she asked as if torn between wanting and not wanting the answer.

_I love you. Some part of me knew it all along._

"The first time I say it, I want us to be alone."

_Please, love me back, Bella._

"Me too."

My lip twitched before curling into a disbelieving smile, one that quickly turned into a grin. And then she was smiling too and I was showering her with kisses and rolling her playfully on my bed.

"Get a room, you two!" Jasper shouted jokingly, but he was smiling as he looked over.

Bella and I were both laughing as I pulled her into my arms.

"This _is_ my fucking room."

* * * * *

**BPOV (Friday Night)**

"So give me the scoop—how was meeting his parents?" Alice asked excitedly as we sped away in her car.

"It was perfect," I sighed dreamily. "Everything was perfect."

And it really felt like it was.

"Well I think I might need a new doctor," she said, looking like she wasn't joking. "Did you see Dr. C?"

"That's Edward's dad!" I scoffed, blushing and looking out of the window.

"So what?" she huffed. "You're not blind."

Alice chattered on about how she wouldn't mind getting a physical from Carlisle and how Edward would look like him one day. I was only partially listening, my mind consumed with something else: taking things with Edward physical. For obvious reasons, we'd kept it clean. Besides his parents, the others had been there. But the attraction between us was beyond palpable, and the emotion was becoming too great.

"Things looked pretty cozy with you and Jasper," I fished carefully. "How are things going with that?"

Her eyes really should have been on the road, for how fast she was going, but she trained a knowing gaze on me.

"You mean, when are we going to do the deed?" she asked cheekily. "He's sleeping over tomorrow night. Being the child of neglectful parents has its merits and Jane won't tell."

Jane was Alice's housekeeper-slash-friend-slash-stand-in-for-a-mother. Her real parents left her for weeks at a time while they jet-setted around the world. Sometimes I worried about Alice, wondered if her wild-child tendencies were a twisted cry for help. I got the sense Jasper pulled her out of some of her shit and gave her love and attention no one ever had. She hid it well, but Alice's life had been a study in pain.

"I think Edward and I might be close…" I mumbled.

"No shit," Alice laughed. "You can't keep your hands off of each other, and that boy is in love. If I wasn't sure you felt the same way, I'd warn you to be careful with his heart."

For the most part, her eyes were back on the road, but she took a long moment to cast a smug glance.

"Looks like all's well that ends well," she murmured quietly.

Or, translated into Alice-speak: _ I told you so_.

* * * * *

**EPOV (Saturday Night – at Roller Derby bout)**

I watched Bella's ass appreciatively as she sauntered to the snack bar. She was wearing those tight jeans again. Her shiny hair cascaded in waves down her back and a snug, long-sleeved v-neck hugged her delicious curves.

"Looks like all's well that ends well, huh, bro?"

Emmett had caught me staring. He'd torn himself away from his own girlfriend's ass long enough to throw me a shit-eating grin.

"No need to thank me now," he continued in a Marlon Brando voice, "but some day, and that day may never come, I'll call upon you to do a service for me. But until that day – accept this justice as a gift on my daughter's wedding day."

I blinked.

"Emmett. What the _fuck_ are you talking about?"

He took a little step back in surprise.

"Are you shitting me, dude? You are gayer than the bluebird of happiness since you got with Bella and it's all because I sent that friend request on Facebook instead of you! We both know you never would have friended her yourself."

Jesus. I'd been so love-drunk these past couple of weeks that I'd forgotten to do cleanup on how it all began. I'd intended to ask Em and Jazz after my date with Bella in Port Angeles to corroborate my story if anyone ever asked. But I'd forgotten and here we were, and I had to make sure he understood.

"She can never find out the truth."

My voice held equal parts determination and fear. Things with us were still new and we were on the verge of something wonderful and hearing it could make her doubt everything.

"What's the big deal, man?" Emmett frowned, "it's kind of a funny story. Bella would understand."

"Bella would understand?" I mimicked incredulously, "I guess since women are so understanding all of a sudden, I can tell Rose what she'll find if she looks in the second spare tire bay in the back of your jeep. I'm sure she'd be particularly interested in your fetish for electrical ass fucking and your membership to Sexy Preggo Sluts."

"That's fucked up," Emmett scowled before casting a guilty glance toward where a ferocious-looking Rose took no prisoners as she played the game.

"I know," I admitted, "but I want Bella to like me. And this is one in a small but lethal handful of secrets she is not allowed to know. If she asks you, lie. I'm serious, man. She can never find out the truth."

Emmett looked back at me and nodded reluctantly.

"Too late," Bella's angry, hurt voice growled at my back.

_Please, no._

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Bella," I began, turning to face her, but I didn't even get that far. The back of my collar was pulled away from my neck and cold, icy liquid slid down my skin. Seconds later, an empty cup hit my head. When I turned for the second time to watch her retreating form, she was stomping angrily away.

* * * * *

**Chapter End Note:** Holy fuck, what should Bella do? Tell me your ideas on how she should punish Edward, and how he should get back into her good graces.


	12. Creep

**A/N:** I had more fun than I should have reading through all of your reviews, snickering while half of you yelled at me for writing such a volatile Bella while the other half of you gleefully chased my Edward with pitchforks and torches, booing and hissing at him for his lies. Trust me, folks. It'll all come together—I'm an HEA kind of girl :)

This week, I have to send a special thanks to Holly, known on Twitter as **Hollister_1980**, known to me as my musical soul sister, known to you as author of The Sovereign Six. Much to my delight, she stepped in to help beta this chapter. Big hugs always to **SassenachWench**, **Gondolier**, and their candor. We're in the home stretch, ladies!

**A/N 2: **If you are enjoying my writing and think you may like my interpretation of Carlisle, put me on author alert—I am about to post two NC-17-rated fics: a CxB one-shot and a FFFA one-shot collaboration with Sassenach Wench that is CxExOC and that has a lot of yummy surprises :)

**Chapter 12 – Creep**

_When you were here before, _

_Couldn't look you in the eye_

_You're just like an angel, _

_Your skin makes me cry_

_You float like a feather_

_In a beautiful world_

_I wish I was special_

_You're so fuckin' special_

_But I'm a creep, _

_I'm a weirdo_

_What the hell am I doin' here?_

_I don't belong here_

_-"Creep" by Radiohead_

* * * * *

**BPOV (Saturday Night)**

*** * * * ***

**BPOV (Sunday)**

*** * * * ***

**BPOV (Monday)**

*** * * * ***

**BPOV (Tuesday Morning)**

"Da-aad," I whined as I felt the nudge on my shoulder, "Lemme sleep. I'm still not up to going to school."

I buried my head under the pillow and pulled the covers up, but the nudging didn't stop.

"I'm serious, Dad," I groused irritably, wishing he would continue to let me wallow. "I got my period last night and my cramps are reeeeaaally bad."

It only took that one time I asked him to buy tampons from the store to know menstrual talk was like kryptonite to him. If I didn't play my trump card, I'd have to go to school and I wasn't ready to face the world.

"Charlie left for work ten minutes ago, Bella, which means he's not here to protect you from _me_."

Second on the list of people I wasn't ready to face was Alice.

"Get up," she hissed viciously at the same time she ripped off all my covers.

_Please, God. Just kill me now._

I turned to glare at her. "Did you stake out my house and break into the back door, or did Charlie actually let you in?"

Her glare was better.

"Neither one, bitch. I used the spare key in the mailbox. As your _best friend_ I knew where it was."

I winced at her words. For two full days, Charlie had honored my wish to keep all calls and visitors out. At the time it had seemed desirable, if not necessary, to extend that ban to include Alice. Despite a barrage of calls from Edward hers was the only one I'd answered late Saturday night. The way she immediately started defending him told me she'd already picked her side.

"About that—" I started, but she cut me off.

Maybe it was time to extend the olive branch. It still irked me that she'd been so quick to defend Edward, but I missed her and I needed a friend.

"No, Bella. You don't have shit to say to anyone you know for the last two days? You can be silent for one day longer. And we'll get back to what kind of friend you've been to me in due time. For now I'm your fairy godmother."

I shut up, mainly because Alice was scaring me, but also because I was losing my fight. The quick change of heart pretty much summed up my last couple days: I was a schizophrenic mess.

I'd practiced my script and had at hand a list of perfectly rational reasons why I'd flown off the handle at Edward. By now I could admit it was stupid for me to be pissed about Emmet being the one to friend me—but what about Edward's lies? If he'd go to such lengths to hide something I'd forgive, he had to be hiding more.

_And he was, wasn't he?_

Damn skippy he was. He'd said as much himself: "lethal" secrets about which I "could never find out the truth". When Alice asked again why I couldn't forgive him I'd be pointing straight to that.

But, that was just the script and my heart knew a deeper truth: I'd been waiting for the ship to hit the iceberg. And as soon as it did, like a coward, I'd jumped the first lifeboat out.

_Women and children first._

And that was my problem. I had always made like we were the _Titanic_: the most splendid thing to ever sail the northern seas, but destined somehow to sink. And I was one of the skeptics who'd gone aboard, all the while believing it was too good to be true.

_Why couldn't you believe you deserved him, Bella?_

That question, above all others, was what kept me catatonic, in bed. I rarely cried, but these past few days I'd wept buckets. I knew I wasn't dynamic like Alice or confident like Rose. But I'd thought I had a little more self-esteem.

_Don't go there._

But I had gone there, a dozen times in as many hours. I had finally figured out why a relationship with Edward paralyzed me with fear. My naive mother never learned not to believe every single lie all those rich, handsome, only-after-one-thing sugar daddies told her, and I couldn't end up like my mother.

"Neither of us is going to class today, Bella. There are some things you need to see. Resistance would be futile, understand?"

I nodded dumbly.

"Good. Now, take a shower and put something decent on. You have enough problems. The last thing you need is to be seen looking like that."

A quick glance in the mirror revealed tear-tracks on my face and bird's nest hair. When I returned from the shower, I saw that Alice had tidied my room and put fresh sheets on my bed. It made me feel even worse for shutting her out.

"Alice…just, thanks." She gave me a look that was intended to give warning but I could see she was fighting to stay mad.

She shook her head then, but her face softened.

"Don't thank me just yet. It's only been two days, but you have missed a _lot_."

I took her exit as my cue to follow. I felt weak as I descended the stairs and found I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten. I started toward the kitchen but she pulled me into the dining room, where I was assaulted by a sweet smell. I blinked in disbelief when I saw the table held three bouquets of exotic flowers that looked like ones I'd seen in Esme's garden.

"This is the gift table, Bella. It has everything Edward sent to the house since Saturday night. There's more on the other side."

I circled the table slowly, and sure enough there was another pile of stuff. I counted two CDs, the green iPod Shuffle and a white Nano I didn't think I'd ever seen. There also appeared to be several letters and cards.

"Start reading," she commanded gently.

Reaching to a vase full of bright purple hyacinths, she handed me the envelope that was taped to its edge. I pulled out a flat note card in the same fine stock as the envelope with the blue-engraved motif of a swan.

_**How can I just let you walk away,**_

_**Just let you leave without a trace,**_

_**When I stand here taking every breath with you?**_

_**You're the only one who really knew me at all.**_

_**I won't walk away from you, Bella. Please don't walk away from me.**_

Song lyrics. Edward was sending me song lyrics, knowing how they would get to me. I was torn between heartbreak at the sentiment of the song and the bittersweet reminder that only he knew how to cut to my core.

"Keep reading, Bella. There're a dozen more." Alice's voice was soft, but firm.

I took a step toward the next vase and, with shaking hand, retrieved the second card.

_**I'm coming to find you if it takes me all night.**_

_**Can't stand here like this anymore.**_

_**For always and ever is always for you.**_

_**I want it to be perfect like before.**_

_**Oh, I want to change it all.**_

_**Oh, I want to change.**_

_**Bella, I'm not giving up on us. I'll do whatever it takes.**_

Looking up at Alice, I shook my head, unsure that I could continue. I took a step back, but she pushed me forward, and handed me the third.

_**We belong to the light, we belong to the thunder.**_

_**We belong to the sound of the words we've both fallen under.**_

_**Whatever we deny or embrace, for worse or for better.**_

_**We belong, we belong, we belong together.**_

_**Please, Bella. Let me apologize. I'm nothing without you.**_

I heard the sniffle, but I didn't realize it had come from me. Didn't know my tears were falling until one landed on the note.

"I can't do this, Alice." My voice sounded small.

This time the hand she held out contained a handkerchief.

"You _can_ and you _will _do this."

I sniffled pitifully.

"C'mon," she tugged at my elbow. "We'll listen to the CDs in my car. Right now we have some place to go."

She placed the rest of the items into her purse and we headed out the front door. I nearly tripped over a plaid flannel blanket.

_What the fuck?_

Alice gave me a pointed look.

"That's the blanket Edward shivered under the two nights he spent sleeping on your porch."

I had to swallow a couple of times before my voice would work.

"Edward slept here?"

She didn't need to answer. Instead, she just led me to her Porsche. Things got worse when she docked the Nano and started playing his songs. Ten minutes later I sat, dejected and remorseful with my head against the window, drowning in "_If I Ain't Got You_" when the jolt of the car pulling into somewhere caused me to open my eyes.

"I thought we weren't going to school," I whined pathetically.

"I said we weren't going to class," Alice clarified. "It's 8:45. Second period started ten minutes ago. No one will be in the halls."

I felt like a loser when I tried, and failed, at not scanning the parking lot for the silver Volvo.

"He's not here."

_Where is he?_, I wouldn't let myself ask.

"He got a three-day suspension."

By then we were climbing the steps to the school building, and I stopped short.

"Suspended! For what?"

"Breaking Dan Wesley's jaw."

She grabbed my elbow to drag me forward and I was too bewildered to protest.

"Edward was fighting?"

She turned to pin me with another powerful look. "Edward was fighting for _you_."

"I don't' understand." I shook my head, unseeing as I followed Alice down the hall. "What does some kid named Dan Wesley have to do with me?"

"He wasn't kind enough to introduce himself to you atthe gas station that morning," she said bitterly, "but he was dumb enough to talk smack to Edward."

_Edward defended me._

"What'd that Dan kid say?" I asked, afraid again to know.

For the second time that day, Alice faltered.

"Just tell me." The dread was quickly turning to panic.

"He heard you broke up and asked some pretty crass things, about how you were in bed and when he could have his turn. Edward flipped his shit and broke the guy's jaw. It took Emmett and two other jocks to pull him off."

"Is Edward okay?" I nearly shouted, panic lacing my voice.

Alice reached into her purse and pulled out my phone.

"Maybe you should ask him yourself."

I shook my head immediately.

"Alice, I ca—I'm not ready, alright? Just, please tell me Edward's okay."

Alice huffed and shook her head, looking in brief frustration to the side, but I knew she wouldn't make me suffer.

"Physically, Edward's fine. His knuckles are a bit bruised. Other than that he's just got a broken heart."

She studied me openly, as if trying to figure out what was going on in my head. I barely even knew myself.

"We're here," she said finally, never moving her eyes.

It was then that I turned around and saw we were at my locker. Only it didn't look like my locker. It looked like some kind of shrine. More of the same fine note cards with Edward's elegant script had been taped on front, this time without the envelope. They all held lyrics to more songs. I read the first one.

_**What do you think I would give at this moment?**_

_**If you'd stay I'd subtract twenty years from my life **_

_**I'd fall down on my knees, kiss the ground that you walk on,**_

_**If I could just hold you again.**_

_**Please take me back, Bella.**_

I couldn't believe my eyes. Five similar cards with equally apologetic song lyrics were taped down my locker in artistic formation for all the world to see.

_For all the world to see._

The tears—tears of guilt this time—started once again.

_What have I done?_

* * * * *

**APOV (Tuesday Late Morning)**

I took Bella to my house. There was a conversation we needed to have and I couldn't risk her kicking me out of hers. As shocked as part of me was at her behavior, the larger part had seen it coming. All along, she'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Only, she didn't seem to realize she'd practically thrown it.

_**Jasper Whitlock:**_ How's Operation "Head-Out-of-Your-Ass" coming along?

Jasper was IMing me surreptitiously from study hall. I glanced over to where Bella sat on my bed, surrounded by tissues, awash in silent tears. The first part of the operation—making her read all of his letters and listen to all the music he sent—was in full swing. But watching her suffering made me wonder whether I hadn't gone over the top.

_**Alice Brandon:**_ She's taking it pretty hard, which I guess was the point :( Is Operation "Pull-Yourself-Together-Man" faring any better?

_**Jasper Whitlock:**_ Not even close. He won't answer my calls, but I know he's still alive.

_**Alice Brandon:**_ Let me guess: Facebook?

_**Jasper Whitlock:**_ I think he's hoping she'll log on

_**Alice Brandon:**_ That's on this afternoon's agenda. Maybe that will end this?

_**Jasper Whitlock:**_ I hope so, Sugar. Call me when you're done. I love you, Alice

_**Alice Brandon:**_ I love you, too Jasper :)

Half an hour later, she placed the last letter back in its envelope and curled into a lying position. She was still mopping her eyes and sniffling when I got up from my desk chair and sat next to her on the bed.

"I know he's really sorry. But, he lied to me, Alice."

They were the first words she had spoken to me since we left the school.

"You scared him, Bella."

My voice was gentle but firm. I had to give her tough love.

"And based on the way you _completely overreacted_," I continued with emphasis, "he had you all figured out."

"_All figured out_?" she sniffled. "What's that s'posed to mean?" Her voice was rising. "And why are you making excuses for him again?"

"I'm not, Bella." I shook my head. "It was wrong—not to mention really stupid—for him to lie about something like that. And though I think it's interesting how you haven't mentioned that, technically, _I_ accepted his friend request, we'll ignore the irony of that and focus on the real issue."

"And what is the real issue?" she mocked without much fight.

"You were skeptical all along. He knew it, and it made him feel like he had something to prove."

She opened her mouth to protest, but I wouldn't let her get a word in.

"And I know how he feels. When we first met, you did the same exact thing to me."

Her mouth snapped shut.

"I'm not blind, Bella. I know I drive a Porsche and you drive an old pickup truck. I know you see my life as glamorous and yours as plain. I know I can roller skate backwards with both eyes closed while anything faster than a stroll makes you trip over your own feet. But here's the difference between us: _you care about those things_. And, at the beginning, you never let me forget it."

Her look of bewilderment told me I was getting through to her.

"You judged him the entire time, and it made him insecure. But he fell in love with you so hard that he'd do anything it took to keep you. Even if 'anything' meant that he had to lie."

She looked away from me then, out my window toward the darkening woods and overcast sky.

"I know I made mistakes," she whispered finally. "And his letters…explained a lot. But two wrongs don't make a right. Both of us being sorry doesn't mean we can go back to the way things were."

I sighed and lay down next to her.

"All couples fight, Bella. It's part of being in love. But the ones that survive talk things through. Don't turn this into more than it needs to be."

She nodded, looking at least partially convinced—I took that as a good sign.

I had more ammo, but she looked as though she'd had enough. Knowing what was coming up on her agenda made me decide not to push too hard.

"You stay here for awhile, maybe get some rest. I'll ask Jane to fix you soup—" I wisely raised instead. "You haven't eaten all day, and you'll need strength for what's next."

* * * * *

**RPOV (Tuesday Afternoon)**

"Wake up," I growled in my most menacing voice which was, if I do say so myself, pretty menacing.

Bella's face was mostly covered with a messy tangle of hair, and she opened one groggy, unfocused eye. She closed it a second later, appearing to go back to sleep. I scanned Alice's bedroom for something heavy to throw, but she shot up abruptly, before I got the chance, looking utterly and completely afraid. I sneered.

"Rosalie?"

She trembled slightly, which I thoroughly enjoyed. The veil began to lift, freeing her from her haze.

"You have five minutes to get your ass downstairs and meet me in my car. We have a long drive ahead of us today."

She nodded shallowly, eyes still wide and scared, as I turned on my heel. She made it to my car with a minute to spare.

"Lunch," I declared, motioning to the sleek designer thermos of soup that sat in the drink-holder. I threw her a baggie of oyster crackers that she barely caught. How somebody so uncoordinated presumed to eat soup in a moving vehicle was beyond me. All I knew was that she'd better not spill any in my car.

"Is this another fairy godmother mission?" she asked timidly as we sped out of town.

I smirked at Alice's name for it.

"Couldn't you tell by my costume? I'm Glinda, the Good Witch of the North."

Her eyes widened slightly as she held me in her regard, but she soon trained them back to the road ahead.

We rode in silence—me, Bella, and our pain. I sensed hers, but I doubted she sensed mine. I could count on one hand the people for whom I would reveal this, my deepest secret. Among them was Edward, dear friend, confidante and the only one who remotely understood. He loved her, and her position in his carefully-guarded inner circle automatically placed her in mine.

At some point, she did manage a few crackers and a bit of her soup, but I could tell our mystery field trip had her spooked. When we were a few minutes away from our destination, I started talking. I knew I looked perfect, but inside I was in knots.

"You haven't been here long enough to remember Royce King. He and I dated all through sophomore year. He was my first boyfriend—gorgeous, popular, rich—he promised me the sun, the moon, and the stars. I was in love with him. So much so, that I only saw what I wanted to see."

"I know the feeling…" she muttered, all bitter sadness, under her breath.

"Shut up," I snarled. "You don't know anything. He did a lot worse than tell me white lies."

I was suddenly livid that anyone could compare Edward to Royce.

_This is exactly why we're doing this_, I thought with simmering rage. _Someone needs to school this sanctimonious little..._

"_As I was saying_…I ignored the signs that he wasn't a good guy. I let all the controlling and name-calling and excuse-making slide because he always apologized and there were times when he was really sweet."

When I heard the deep breath I was taking shudder, I realized I was trembling.

"Then things got physical," I ground out.

I had her attention now.

"I deluded myself into thinking things were fine because he never hit me with his fist or his hand. But he would shove me around a lot—kind of manhandle me. This one time he grabbed my arm so hard it left marks. This one other time, he got really drunk."

Bella was so engrossed in what I was saying, and so generally out of it, she didn't notice we'd pulled off of the road and driven through wrought iron gates.

"That was how I ended up here."

She looked around, at the canopy of trees encircling the road and the chateau style buildings at the end of the long drive.

"Where are we?"

"The Sisters of the Holy Family."

Understanding dawned in her eyes.

"Hard to believe that they still have convents." I laughed bitterly. "Not only that—it turns out they're still dumping grounds for pregnant teens."

Bella shook her head, no longer stuck in her own misery, but for the moment concerned with mine.

"Rosalie, I don't know what to say."

I was surprised when tears prickled my eyes, and more surprised still when I realized they were for her.

"You don't have to say anything. Just listen, okay? What I'm showing you today is really important."

Parking in front of the schoolhouse, I cut the engine and we got out of the car. The residence was a beautiful building. A large turreted hall was the centerpiece of the stone structure. We walked up a grand set of stairs to the main room, all shining wood floors anchored by an enormous fireplace. Identical staircases flanked opposite sides of curved walls. It was ironic. I had been nervous to come here, having only been back twice. Already, I'd forgotten that in so many ways, this convent felt like home.

I walked us up the stairs to the second level, then up one more flight to the third. School was in session so the residence was empty—it meant we would be alone. Our destination was my favorite window seat. It had everything a good window seat should. Soft, cushy pillows, room for two and an amazing view of the lake.

I began my second story, the one with the happy ending.

"Once a week the nuns would take us into town to do our shopping and let us walk around. This one Saturday in June I ran into Emmett. He was picking up prescriptions for his grandma, who lives, like, ten miles from here. Mind you, we had never been friends at school before, but each of us knew who the other was. The school had been told I was in France on foreign exchange. I'd even missed the spring semester. Yet, there I was, 30 weeks pregnant, running into Emmett while buying stretch mark cream and Preparation H."

"I panicked—like, started having an actual panic attack. I dropped everything in my hands. Every fear I had about people knowing what had happened to me came crashing down and I just…lost it. I still don't remember the whole episode. Somehow we made it out of the pharmacy and ended up on a sidewalk bench."

"I either fainted or got caught up in my own thoughts or something, but I remember coming to in his arms. When I realized where I was, I tried to get up and leave, but he only held me tighter. He held me like that 'til I had to go find the other girls and get my ride back to the convent. Before he put me in the van, he kissed my forehead and told me it would be okay."

"I spent the next week in tears, partially because I finally started dealing with all my emotional bullshit, but partially because I was so heartbroken by his kindness. My parents had basically abandoned me here, convinced me that the rape was my fault, and hidden the pregnancy even from my brothers. They were forcing me to give my baby up for adoption, and they expected me to come home at the end of the summer and play like I'd been on exchange. Emmett's humanity was the best thing that had happened to me in months and it kind of made me fall apart."

Bella looked thoughtful as I let the information sink in. I'd seen her wince when I'd referred to the rape.

"I'm sorry all that happened to you, Rose," she said finally.

"Me, too. But it brought me to Emmett. That next week, he showed up on visitors' day with a big bouquet of daisies. Said I was probably sick of people bringing me roses."

We shared our first real smile.

"He came to see me every week after that. Each visit, we sat right here in this spot. He felt the baby kick and rubbed my feet. He listened to my whole story and held me while I cried. He stood up to my parents and made them press charges against Royce, but not before he kicked his ass. He told my brothers the truth and brought them to come see me."

I teared up again at the memory.

"I had never been so happy to see those clowns in my life."

In her sorry state, Bella was deep in tissues. She handed me one and we both swiped at our eyes.

"So here's the lesson, Bella. There are good guys and bad guys, and I found out the difference the hard way. Edward is one of the good ones—the kind you hold onto with all you've got, and right now you're driving him away. So he did something stupid, but guys are retarded like that. If you ever find yourself in a relationship with a guy who doesn't do stupid things, be afraid..."

"And, don't think for a second I'm blind to Emmett's faults just because he came to my rescue like he did. I know all about his cage fighting addiction and all that kinky porn—why do you think he's so into pregnant chicks?"

Her jaw dropped in shock and I smirked.

"Edward's only human and good people do bad things. I can guarantee that you would regret not forgiving him."

She nodded. "I know, I just…I wish understood why."

"You two have only been dating for, like, two weeks Bella. Give the guy some time. You can't expect him to lay everything down all at once. These things that happened with Emmett took almost three months. And Edward has his own share of junk."

She sniffled and nodded again. "Can I ask you a question? I mean, I know I'm supposed to be listening…"

_What happened to your baby?_ I was sure it was coming.

"How do you know all this stuff about Edward?"

* * * * *

**BPOV**

Rose had thrown a cryptic "You'll find out when we get back to Forks" as a non-answer to my only question. Just because we rolled with the same crew didn't mean we were close, and I'd wondered all along why she had stepped in to "help".

I'd noticed how she'd not only defended Edward—she'd spoken of him with a certain reverence. It seemed he did have secrets, including some relationship with Rose. If I hadn't just heard how deep things were between she and Emmett, I might've been jealous.

Back in Forks, Rose drove entirely too fast as we zipped through the town, passing the turnoff to Alice's place. Next, we passed the turnoff to mine. Then, the turnoff to school, and, to my relief, the turnoff to Edward's.

"Where're we going?" I asked, no longer able to sit in suspense.

She smiled slyly.

"I have a volunteer gig over at the hospital."

I didn't like hospitals. The smell reminded me of many an emergency room trip, many times waiting by myself to get stitches and being nauseated by the scent of my own blood.

"And you can bring friends? That sounds…untraditional."

Her smile melted into a smirk.

"Oh, today's not my day…I only come in Mondays and Wednesdays."

Clearly amused by a little joke with herself, Rosalie slowed to pull into the lot. She parked the car and pulled out the key. The next thing that came from her mouth was said with a tiny bite.

"I thought we'd drop in on a favorite colleague of mine. Tuesdays and Thursdays are Edward."

Tuesdays and Thursdays. Volunteering at the hospital. The elusive disappearances were explained.

"Edward's a candy striper?" I almost shouted.

He'd made me insecure over being an afterschool volunteer? Rose looked like she was trying not to laugh.

"While I might pay to see him in a pink and white outfit, hospitals stopped having candy stripers, like, twenty years ago."

I wasn't laughing—I was still too busy being peeved. Her smile faded.

"Seriously, Bella. You need to see what he does here. After that I promise I'll take you home."

I was shaking when I climbed from the car, quite possibly with anger. I lagged behind Rose as we approached the entrance, wringing my hands all the while.

"I don't know if I can see him yet, Rose. What am I going to say?"

"Lucky bitch that you are, you won't have to say anything. He'll be in a restricted area behind one-way glass. You'll see him, but he won't see you."

I followed her down a long hallway, up a staircase and down a hall. When she punched a security code into a keypad next to a serious-looking door, I looked around to figure out where we were.

"NICU?" I said aloud. I had no idea what that meant.

"_Nik-Yoo_," she said, emphasizing the correct pronunciation. "Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. It's where the babies who are too sick to go home stay to get better."

She walked through the door.

"Edward should be just through here."

I was terrified and confused. I didn't understand any of it. My feet carried me despite lack of conscious will. Through a window I first saw his shock of bronze hair. He stood with his back to me as his body rocked slowly, his tall figure a stark contrast to the collection of enclosed little beds that looked more like futuristic pods. He turned his body slowly, his lips moving as if he were talking, and it was then that I saw the bundle in his arms.

_Holy fuck. My boyfriend is holding a baby._

I gulped as I looked over at Rose. "Please tell me that's not his."

She rolled her eyes. "He's a _cuddler_, Bella. So am I. Remember, we're volunteers? Babies need human contact in order to develop properly."

He was a magnet, and before she even finished her sentence my eyes found their way back to him. He looked like hell, but even a wrecked version of Edward was beautiful. Despite the anguish on his face, his aura was calm as he lovingly cradled the infant. The corners of my mouth trembled.

"Edward cu—cuddles babies?"

I bit my lip to keep from sobbing, but I knew it would be of no use.

"Every Tuesday and Thursday. And he loves these kids, Bella. The one he's with today—Nick—is going home this week. Edward's gotten really attached to him. But that's what we're here for, to get them nice and strong. Strong enough so they can go home."

Rose's voice caught at the last part, "home" coming out in just a whisper, and it all snapped into focus. Why she would volunteer her time working with babies. Why Edward would. My heart broke a little then.

"Rose?" I asked cautiously. Her eyes were shining. "What happened to your baby?"

It took her a long minute to answer.

"She was born on August 15 of last year. I gave her up for adoption. Emmett was with me when they took her. She was the most beautiful little girl I've ever seen and I gave her the name Daisy."

By then we were both crying and in an unprecedented move, I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around her waist. She wrapped back and it felt strangely comfortable. It was the closest we'd ever come to a hug.

* * * * *

Thirty minutes later, I was at home, shut back in my room. Before I could face the music, there was a final wall I had to climb. I'd been studiously ignoring all things digital and this was the last frontier.

_Facebook._

I knew he'd try to get to me through it, and since he was still at the hospital, I was unlikely to run into him on chat (a circumstance I didn't think I could handle). I had so much to tell him, but I still didn't know what to say. Had so many questions, but still didn't know how to ask.

My heart pounded in my chest as I waited for the system to log me on. A single look at my homepage had me completely overwhelmed. Thirty-two messages in my inbox (I'd never had more than three). His tiny thumbnail picture was next to most of the messages on my wall—all the others were from Renee. With shaking hand, I moved my mouse to click on his picture. I had to see his status, though I knew without seeing it that it would be too much. It showed the last four entries, and reading in chronological order I went from bottom to top.

_**Edward Cullen --**_ _**You flicker and you're beautiful, you glow inside my head. You hold me hypnotized, I'm mesmerized, your flames, the flames that kiss me dead.**_

_**Edward Cullen -- And the music was like wind in your hair. The moonlight caressed your silhouette. Kiss of ocean mist is in the air. Why must God punish me this way?**_

_**Edward Cullen -- What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you**_

_**Edward Cullen –**_ _**Now that I've tried to talk to you and make you understand, all you have to do is close your eyes and just reach out your hand and touch me. Hold me close, don't ever let me go.**_

I had broken the heart of the only man I ever loved. I had to fix it. I knew I had to, but I couldn't do it if I had to be faced with this. I needed some time to work it all out.

_It has to be this way._

Through my tears, I clicked to compose a new message and typed his name into the recipient bar. The subject was "Personal" and the message went like this:

_**I need some shelter of my own protection baby**_

_**Be with myself and center, clarity, peace, serenity**_

_**I hope you know, I hope you know**_

_**That this has nothing to do with you**_

_**It's personal, myself and I**_

_**We got some straightening out to do…**_

_**Edward, I know we need to talk, but right now there are too many words. I'm sorry I can't handle it all right now. Soon, I promise. -Bella**_

After hitting send, there was only one more thing to do, and I cried impossibly harder when I navigated to my friend list, scrolled to his name, and hit "remove".

* * * * *

**Chapter End Note:** Yes, there's a HEA. Yes it'll be coming soon. Yes, "soon" means sooner than last time. I was originally going to do the Edward chapter first, but then I realized that would be bad. 15 chapters, people. That's all there are.

**Mentioned Songs:**

"Against All Odds" Phil Collins

"Night Like This" The Cure

"We Belong" Pat Benatar

"At This Moment" Vera Billy And The Beaters

"The Caterpillar" The Cure

"Anger Management" Lovage

"Wicked Game" Chris Isaac

"More Than Words" Extreme

"Big Girls Don't Cry" Fergie

**Question:** So whaddayathink? Will Edward respect her request for space or will he swoop in with a grand gesture?


	13. Lover You Should've Come Over

**A/N: **I brought in extra beta help for this one, since so many people *freaked out* about the unfriend. I have been thoroughly assured that, however much you might hate Chapter 12 Bella, Chapter 13 is worth the read. Thanks to _**Mabarberella**_ for her swift red pen, _**Holly_1980**_ for her musical genius, _**SassenachWench**_ for being a beacon of sanity, and _**Gondolier**_ for her ubiquitous splendor. Special thanks also to _**Spanglemaker9 **_and _**Iwant2Sparkle**_ for tweeting me suggestions for Jasper's car. _**fngrcufs **_said Jasper would surely drive the General Lee.__She and _**theblondebella**_ egged me on to write a Dukes of Hazzard crackfic (Carlisle = Uncle Jesse, Mike = Roscoe P Coltrane, Emmett = Cooter. 'Nuff said)

**A/N2: **I know that many of my chapters have come with strong song recommendations. This one might well be the strongest. In my book, "Lover You Should've Come Over" is hands down the best I-fucked-up-and-wants-you-back-song in the history of music. Anyone who disagrees may challenge me to a duel!

**Chapter 13 – Lover You Should've Come Over**

_Lonely is the room, the bed is made. The open window lets the rain in._

_Burning in the corner is the only one who dreams he had you with him._

_My body turns and yearns for a sleep that won't ever come._

_It's never over. My kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder…_

_It's never over. All my riches for her smiles when I slept so soft against her..._

_It's never over. All my blood for the sweetness of her laughter..._

_It's never over. She's a tear that hangs inside my soul forever..._

**-"Lover, You Should've Come Over" **by** Jeff Buckley**

*** * * * ***

**Charlie POV (Sunday)**

"Breakfast, Bells?"

I poked my head into her room and saw she was still in bed.

"I thought we'd go to the di—"

Taking in her wide, unfocused eyes, I stopped short. She looked awake, but not really there. My adrenaline surged.

"What happened?" My voice was authoritative and alarmed. I'd seen that look on women's faces too many times before.

Her eyes were eerily blank as she looked up at me.

"Did somebody hurt you?" I struggled to keep my calm.

That seemed to snap her out of it, because suddenly her eyes were sharp.

"What? No, Dad. Just…no."

Her quick reaction—an intuitive one—caused me to believe her.

"I think Edward and I broke up," she whispered miserably.

_Kids and their whirlwind romances. He only took her out for the first time a week ago today…_

Taking a seat on the edge of her bed, I stayed with her in silence. Having recently bought a book about being a single father to a teenage girl, I knew there was a chance she'd want to "talk".

"You think, but you're not sure?"

She sniffled miserably.

"Technically I never said the words."

_So she broke up with _him_._

She sat up a little and propped herself up and fixed me with searching eyes.

"If a girl dumped a drink down your shirt and threw the cup at your head, would you think you were broken up?"

_Attagirl, Bells!_ I concealed a smile.

"That would depend on what I'd done."

I saw that she held a tissue in her hand, one that her fingers were now nervously shredding.

"He lied to me, Dad."

Then she launched into a lengthy story. To tell you the God's honest truth, what they were fighting about sounded like the stupidest thing I'd ever heard. But I thought of the parenting book and how I was supposed to be supportive and remember that I, too, had been a teenager once.

"Give yourself some time, Bells. If he's worth his salt, he'll wait as long as it takes."

I reached to the back of her head and tousled her hair. Her answering smile was sad but grateful. Before letting me leave she'd made me promise to run interference on all of her visits and calls.

Ten minutes later I was walking out the door to head to the diner alone. I was thinking about whether to bring Bella back pancakes or waffles to cheer her up when I tripped over something large.

_What the hell?_

My eyes shot to my feet almost as quickly as my hand shot up to scrub my hand over my head. Edward Cullen and his crazy hair were sleeping on my porch.

_Well, not so much sleeping anymore. _

The kid had startled awake. For a brief moment of bewilderment, he wondered where he was, but I saw the moment the truth set in. I almost felt bad for the guy for how miserable he looked, but I was on Bella's side. She'd been specific in asking that I not let her be seen and I'd honor her request.

"Chief Swan, good morning."

I got the sense that he was a well-mannered guy, even when he wasn't kissing my ass. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I liked the kid, but I liked that he made her happy. Until last night.

"Morning, Edward. I know why you're here. But, I'm sorry—she's asked not to see you. Now, that's what she said, but this part is from me: do not. Lie. To my daughter."

He looked deeply ashamed as he scrambled to his feet.

"'Cause I'm a hunter, Edward. And the Chief of Police, and I could hunt you down."

Fear flashed across his face as he remembered the knives. I knew they would come in handy.

"Now, you are leaving and I'm going out to get breakfast and you'll give my daughter some time."

Something flashed in his eyes—at first, I thought it was defiance, but soon I saw that it was resolve.

"With all due respect, sir, I'd like to stay. I doubt that my word means much to her right now, so I'd like my presence to speak for how much I care."

_Jesus Christ._

He loved Bella. I could see it in his eyes. He reminded me of a young me.

"And, sir? I can guarantee you that I will never lie to Bella again and that lying last night was the stupidest thing I've ever done."

I sighed and scrubbed my fingers over my chin. I'd been in the doghouse with a woman enough times to want to give him a chance.

"I appreciate that, but I have to respect Bella's wishes. I'll be sure to tell her you were here."

Continuing down the steps and hoping to effectively end the conversation, I listened for his steps behind me. His feet didn't move and instead I got his voice, steady and strong.

"I know you've been in love before, Chief Swan. What I mean is, I know you and Bella's mother were once in love. Only love could create a person as special as Bella."

_This kid is good_, I realized when my feet stopped moving.

"Well, I'm in love with your daughter. And I mean no disrespect to you or her, sir. I only mean to fix it.

The thing was, I could smell bullshit from miles away, and he was being sincere.

"I left a message on her phone asking her to come out and talk to me. If she doesn't, I swear I'll leave her alone. No knocking on the door or throwing stones at her window. I'll let her come to me."

I didn't have the heart to tell him she was stubborn like her mother. The both of them could brood for days. It felt traitorous to think it, but I sympathized with him. I'd been where he was, with Renee, many times before.

Taking pity on him, I nodded and looked down at my feet. I didn't want the kid to starve. He looked pretty beat down and could probably use some breakfast.

"How do you like your eggs?"

*** * * * ***

**EPOV (Sunday)**

I wasn't quite sure that Chief Swan liked me but I no longer suspected he wished me dead. He had brought me breakfast and coffee and left the front door open so I could use the small bathroom in the hall.

By Sunday evening, the Swan porch had hosted a revolving door of visitors. Between friends and family I was brought reinforcements and the occasional word of advice.

Emmett was the first, and I was unspeakably happy to see him. Aside from my transgression against Bella, what I'd done to Emmett had also been out of line. I apologized for being a dick and using what I knew about his "recreational activities" as leverage, assuring him I'd said all of it not out of intention, but fear. He accepted the apology with grace, and sat with me awhile in silent solidarity because that's the kind of man Emmett was.

Alice was next. Though she hadn't specifically come to see me, the fact that I was there killed two birds with one stone.

"I know why you did what you did," she announced, as she marched up the front steps. Then she slapped me. "But if you ever lie to Bella again, you'll be shitting teeth."

She continued on inside without another word. I was still rubbing my cheek when she came out a moment later. I raised an eyebrow in surprise. I'd thought she would be in there for hours.

"Looks like Bella won't see either of us." I could see the hurt through her pride.

Before I could think up a response, she flipped her chin toward the red plaid blanket that I always kept in the trunk of my car.

"What's that?"

I looked at the blanket, then back at her.

"It's what I slept under last night."

She nodded approvingly, her grey eyes twinkling as she got set to leave. She flitted off of the porch, and a second before she disappeared into her car, she called two words and smiled.

"Carry on."

My mother was next. I'd explained to her where I was on the phone the night before. When I hadn't returned by noon she called ahead to find out what I wanted for lunch. I placed a taller order that involved a basket of supplies, the least of which included food. We'd split one of the three BLTs she brought (go overboard much, Mom?) and a thermos of hot cider while sitting on the porch step.

After years of practice, she knew just what I needed—knew not to fuss or hound. She could tell that I was beating myself up enough for everyone, and, per usual, she spared her admonitions. In knowing her as well, I correctly anticipated that she would not leave without imparting a single but powerful kernel of wisdom.

"God brings men into deep water, not to drown them but to cleanse them," she whispered in my ear as I hugged her goodbye.

For the next hour or so, I sat with the swan-monogrammed note cards and letter paper my mother had brought (bless that woman for thinking of the little stuff). As I began drafting letters, crossing out more lines than I kept, I concluded that the written word was an apt hedge for whatever words might fly from my mouth.

I heard the engine of Jasper's '65 Mustang from half a mile down the road. He drove it so seldom, any other day I'd hop up at the chance to admire his flawless restoration. He looked troubled as he emerged from his car, casting a grim glance toward Bella's window. He sidled up to the house slowly, attention focused upward for a long moment before catching my eyes.

"It's not about what happened last night. You know that, right?"

Jasper was freakishly perceptive when undistracted by Alice.

"Then what is it about?"

"That's easy, dude—she's scared."

He sat down, and I felt a little bit better, somehow more open and calm. I let him talk—I needed as much help as I could get and despite his utter retardation with Alice, Jasper was wise.

"Love and hate are parallel emotions, just like anger and fear. No one was ever angry who wasn't afraid of something. Bella's afraid of something—that's what's going on here."

I nodded my head, thinking of my anger with Emmett the night before.

"What if I don't have the slightest idea of what that is?"

"You may not, dude. You've only been together for a week. Besides, it's not like you can read minds."

_Fucking right I can't._

"Yeah, especially not Bella's."

Jasper started playing with a blade of grass.

"Look, dude. I can't say too much. But a mini-version of this happened with Alice. She's got a bunch of baggage that has nothing to do with me. For some people, emotional fear is paralyzing and it can drive them to do crazy things. Alice moves at ludicrous speed, so at least she gets over shit quick. But Bella's different—less decisive. She takes her time. I'm sure you know that by now."

I looked up at her window. I did know that.

We fist-bumped and then he climbed into his car. I watched it disappear down the street. The more I thought about what he said, the more I realized he had to be right. Hadn't Bella and I bonded over our taste in maudlin music? Hadn't what drew me to her always been the knowledge of a certain darkness we shared? This girl had demons, and I'd triggered something big. I only hoped she'd take me back and one day I'd find out what.

"Are you sure she's worth it?" Rose asked softly, settling next to me on the step.

By the time she came, the sun was setting and I was a few hours shy of twenty-four.

I nodded with conviction. "She's like us, but she's not like us. She's been hurt and abandoned before. And she doesn't have what we have, Rose. It's just her and her dad. Before me, Alice was her only friend."

She nodded in a way that I knew meant she understood. Rose knew what it was to be alone.

"All I care about is that she doesn't hurt and abandon _you_."

I wrapped my arm around her and squeezed.

"I know."

* * * * *

**EPOV (Some time during the sleepless void between Sunday night and Monday morning)**

_My Bella,_

_It is my dearest wish to stand face to face with you and own up to what I said. I am unspeakably sorry for my actions and the pain they have caused you and I am desperate to admit my stupidity, explain myself, and grovel for your forgiveness. _

_At present, I am desperately afraid that you're too angry to give me a chance. Sitting here on your porch having seen neither hide nor hair of you in more than 24 hours, I fear you've made up your mind. There are some things I refuse to say in a letter, Bella. I save those for the next time we meet. But in the meantime, please let me begin to explain some of the "lethal secrets" I never wanted you to find out:_

_I won't presume to know what you think they might be, but I will tell you what it's not: except for the thing about Emmett friending you, I never actively lied about anything else, which means every other word I ever said to you has been true. What I have not told you about are more like lies of omission, things I was afraid would make you like me less if you ever knew. Here are a few big ones:_

_I have a trust fund, a big one. I am the sole heir to parents who were each the sole heirs to large fortunes, so I'm sure you can do the math. Based on some things you've said to me before, I was sure that you always suspected. I have issues when it comes to talking about my money—they have nothing to do with you. Still, I always sensed my wealth made you uncomfortable, so I schemed to never let it come up._

_Second: I have nursed a slightly unhealthy infatuation with you for many months. Becoming friends with you opened the floodgates to something that was much, much larger. I never intended you to find out, honestly, because I didn't want you to think I was creepy. (But don't worry—I have only admired you from afar—never invaded your privacy. I don't sneak into your room to watch you sleep or anything nutty like that. And you have been to my room—I don't have any weird shrines constructed to you (though, I admit I did download your pictures from your Facebook profile to my hard drive and I look at them every night)._

_Now for the final thing I am willing to put in a letter (again, there is more—nothing worse, just things I want to say to the real you): Emmett friending you on Facebook. Whatever you heard of our conversation on Saturday night, you heard right. Friending you is something I never would have done and I intended for you never to find out. I thought if you found out the truth you would be even more afraid my feelings are insincere. The thought of you leaving me was devastating so I asked Emmett to lie. Here's the thing, though, Bella. Emmett only did it because he knew how much I liked you, and that is the truth. I was too awkward and afraid to do it myself. You are my lab partner and I could barely even gather the courage to say hello to you every day! I guess the show I put on worked on everyone, including you. No one would think it to look at me but I am painfully shy._

_I am a coward, Bella. That is why I lied. Yet, I remain as devoted to you as ever. Please take me back. _

_Edward_

*** * * * ***

**EPOV (Monday)**

I was forced to leave Bella's against my will. Though the Chief had become sympathetic to my cause, I'd slept at his house for two nights with no success. Beyond that, I was still a teenage boy trying to get close to his daughter, so it was no surprise that I'd been given the boot.

Now I was in school, and I was fucking miserable. My classes were entirely too slow, and my obsessive Facebook stalking didn't help pass the time. Concealing my iPhone in every class, I clandestinely checked for changes. By then, I'd given up on acknowledgements to any of my messages—let go of absurd fantasies of a happy reunion. At that point, I just wanted to know my girl was okay.

By lunchtime I had received no such comfort. Even worse, I'd had to endure what seemed like dozens of imbecilic posts.

_**Tanya Denali has a case of the Mondays**_

_**Mike Newton – sometimes you feel like a nut; sometimes you don't :P**_

_**Angela Weber wonders how many licks it would take to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop?**_

_**Aro Volturi would've done it if it hadn't been for those meddling kids**_

I briefly considered unfriending every single person I knew except for Bella. But if I did that, I couldn't troll their walls. Professional Facebook stalker that I was, I couldn't pass up the chance to spy on her through her friends. Speaking of things inquiring minds had no right to know…

"Dude, I heard you and Bella broke up."

_What the fuck?_

Glaring up at the voice that had interrupted me from my Facebook app, I came face to face with Dan Wesley. I didn't know why he was talking to me about my girl but I knew immediately I didn't like it.

"What?" I snapped.

He seemed oblivious to my tone.

"I heard you tapped that ass! I know she plays all innocent, but—" he looked around conspiratorially before lowering his voice and leaning in, "—man to man, does she like it rough?"

I was up in a second. And a second after that, his neck was in my hand. Three seconds after that I'd strode us both across the room and pinned him to the nearest wall.

"What the _fuck_ did you just say about my girlfriend?"

That I had never been in a fight did not stop me from drilling my fist into his face. Once was not enough, apparently. At least that's what I was told. I'd been so blind with rage, I remembered almost nothing. At some point I realized I was being shaken. Looking up, I saw the concerned face of my dad.

He crouched in front of me (turns out I was sitting with my back against the brick wall of the gym), and I dimly wondered how long I'd been there.

"Does it hurt?"

I shook my head, because it didn't. I was numb and not from the cold.

"C'mon." He motioned his head to the side, toward the visitor parking lot. "I'll take you home."

He helped me up, brushed me off a little, and clapped his hand on my shoulder. A minute later, we were speeding away. For the first time since Saturday, my mind was completely quiet, almost like I wasn't even there. The warmth of the seat heat opposed the cool window against my temple. The hum of the engine gave me a foreign sense of peace. The color of the evergreens as we whipped past them was beautiful. I felt as if I could go to sleep.

"They gave you a three day suspension for fighting in school." His voice was predictably calm. "You know, you broke Dan Wesley's jaw."

Because the suspension didn't surprise me and I felt no remorse, I kept staring out the window and said nothing.

"Do you know what he said?" I asked minutes later as we sat silently in the car. The Mercedes was in the garage, the engine was cut and I hadn't moved an inch.

"He asked whether he could fuck Bella now that I was done with her and asked whether she liked it rough."

And the next thing out of his mouth reminded me why I loved my dad so much.

"Sounds like he had it coming."

*** * * * ***

**EPOV (Tuesday Afternoon - NICU)**

Nick stared up at me in wide-eyed wonder, his eyes registering a certain alarm. In recent days, they had melted from deep blue-green to clear coffee brown. Whereas he was normally sleeping when I came around, today he was wide awake giving me a look that said "_What the hell happened to you?_"

So I told him. I told him the last half of the story—he knew the first half from me talking about Bella before. By the time I told him about the time we'd stood on the cliffs at Port Angeles, I was certain we both looked ready to cry.

"She made herself so vulnerable that day. She laid it all on the line. She showed me why she was so insecure. And what did I do? I started kissing her to change the subject. That was the same day she asked me why I friended her. Why couldn't I have just been honest?"

Unsurprisingly, a six-week-old had no sage advice, but it was a good sign that he was awake. The kid could barely keep his eyes open any time I talked, so by the fact that he was listening I knew that he cared. At some point, something made me look up and look through the window behind me. But, outside of the usual nurses at their station, I found there was no one there.

At home later, another weird feeling came over me as I pulled up Facebook. I looked at my inbox and almost didn't see her message. The subject line was "Personal" and the author name was right there. I'd nearly missed it because there was only a blank picture next to where it said "Bella Swan".

_What the hell?_

I clicked on her picture but it didn't take me to her page. When I went to click on her name, the text wouldn't link. I was panting by the time I clicked on the title of the message. I read It once. Twice. The third time it finally clicked.

_**Edward, I know we need to talk, but right now there are too many words.**_

_**I'm sorry I can't handle it all right now.**_

_**Soon, I promise. –Bella**_

I tried to reason with myself, to allow myself to trust the words she'd written. "_I know we need to talk_" seemed promising. So did "_soon_". But I noticed where she'd left off and didn't like the lyrics left unsung. The "I'm gonna miss you like a child misses her blanket" I liked well enough. It was the "But I've gotta get a move on with my life" that had me scared.

*** * * * ***

**EPOV (Early Wednesday Morning, more like the middle of the night)**

My hands shook as I wrote the words on the envelope meant for Bella. They shook because I meant them. I had to stop hounding her if what she really wanted was to move on.

_**To Bella**_

_**(The last letter I will write you, I promise.**_

_**If you ever felt anything for me, please read)**_

I stepped out of my car and walked soundlessly to the door, not wanting to wake the chief. The man had guns and I was prowling around his house in the middle of the night.

My hand still shook as I lifted the heavy brass lid of the inlaid slot; blood thrummed loudly in my ears as I kissed the envelope and slipped it through. My heart broke at the thought that this might be the last time I ever stood on Bella's porch. Looking up at her darkened window, I simply prayed.

_My Dearest Bella,_

_I know I am overstepping my bounds by writing this letter. But in case this ends badly, there are things I need you to know. However much I fear this gesture may cost me whatever small chance I may still have with you, the only thing I'm sure of is that you deserve the truth (believe me—it is far more telling than the lies). So here it is—my story. I guess you'll tell me how it ends…_

_Once upon a time there was a lonely little boy who found he didn't like being around people. They looked at him strangely—with pity or envy or infatuation or some other unwelcome emotion in their eyes. He liked his parents (though for a time they didn't seem to like him), but he never had many friends. Unlike other children, he didn't even have neighbors, given the sheer isolation of his big house in the woods. _

_As the boy grew, he still did not much care for people, but something wonderful came to be. He found something to replace the crushing loneliness that seemed like it had been with him forever—he found it could be conquered with music. When he played piano or listened to his parents' old records, he felt a lightness he'd never known. Not because the music took away the pain of seclusion, but because __it understood__._

_The boy kept growing. And his friend, Music, became the most important one in his life. As years went by, he came out of his shell long enough to make a few new friends, but never long enough to stray away from the only one that owned his heart. _

_Something else happened as the boy grew older: it became more difficult for him to hide. More than ever, eyes turned in his direction were filled with pity, envy, and infatuation and he found he needed a new way to fight them off. So he surrendered. He showed them everything they wanted to see, told them everything they wanted, expected. It was easier than showing them who he really was. Besides, music was his, and he wanted it to himself._

_Then she came. _

_She was the first person he had truly noticed in years; the first and only woman to ignite within him emotions he had only seen between his parents. He wished desperately to connect with her but, after so many years of separation, he had no idea how to reach out. So he did nothing, reminding himself that what got him through all those years was losing himself in his music and trusting nobody. He admired her from afar, indulging perversely in her shadow, while accepting that he would never know who she really was._

_His friends knew how he felt about her (it was obvious to them) and one of them forced his hand. And the boy found that, with the opportunity to know her dangling before him, he no longer had the strength to stay away. So he did get to know her, and she was like him in ten different ways and better than him in thirty more. When he was with her, everything in the whole world felt right. She even made music sound better._

_The boy was so busy falling helplessly in love with the girl that he forgot an important thing: he'd spent so long building his walls and keeping people away, he had no idea how to let them in. And, even with this girl, for whom he'd laid bare the dearest pieces of his soul, there were many other pieces he'd forgotten how not to hide. _

_Suddenly hyper-aware of the things he had always hidden, he became insecure in his relationship with his girl. He was afraid if she saw anything other than what she'd already seen—if she saw the ugliest parts of him—she'd feel betrayed. And, so he left those walls intact, hiding away once again, desperate not to overwhelm her with his secrets. But now that he saw what his walls might cost him, he clawed furiously to tear down the stones._

_I miss you, love. Please come back to me. I swear, I'm trying._

_Edward_

*** * * * ***

**Esme POV (Wednesday Night)**

"Carlisle."

My eyes shifted from the sitting room entryway to my husband's reading chair. At the moment, he was doing just that, his nose in the afternoon paper. Either he hadn't heard me or he was pretending not to; the newspaper made it hard to know which. Slow, sad notes from Edward's piano in the parlour below may have been drowning out my voice.

"Carlisle." I hissed louder, leaning around the mica lamp and over the table that separated our chairs.

He looked up this time, bending the corner of his paper low enough for him to see my face. He looked sexy like that, brow furrowed in concentration as his reading glasses sat on his nose. Pushing that thought aside, I shifted my eyes back to the piano room and motioned toward it with my head.

_Edward_, I mouthed, looking pointedly at my husband. _Listen to what he's playing_.

Carlisle pulled his glasses off and folded up his paper. I watched recognition cross his face as he identified the song: "_Wild Horses"_ by The Rolling Stones.

"Do something," I said out loud this time.

He looked at me sadly and spoke with compassion. "This is what seventeen-year-olds do, my love. They suffer from broken hearts."

I shook my head. "I've been watching him all week and he's only getting worse. I found him in his room this morning picking petals off of a rose and listening to "_Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone"_ on a loop. It's time to intervene."

He patted my hand in a gesture I was sure he meant to be soothing.

"Coddling him is only easier on _us_, love. He needs to learn to make it on his own."

Then my stubborn husband went back to reading his paper. I sat back in my chair in a huff, still worried about my son, wanting more to throw my book at Carlisle than to read it. I knew he was doing what he thought was right, but Edward's vibe felt really wrong. Heartbreak was part of growing up, but the music shouldn't hurt like this.

At some point, he transitioned into "_Nothing Compares 2 U_".

_Oh, God—it's getting worse._

My lips worried at my fingernails as Edward's emotion poured painfully through his song. When it came to an end, I willed him to pull himself up off of his bench, to take a step towards whatever came next. But after a long pause, new notes sounded. My determination to engage my husband multiplied when I recognized the song.

"Damnit, Carlisle, _listen_!" I whisper-shouted.

This time he folded his paper and threw me the same sympathetic-but-complacent look. I rolled my eyes and pointed exasperatedly at my ear. His voice was incredulous when he figured out the song.

"Is that '_Total Eclipse of the Heart_'?"

I nodded sadly and Carlisle's expression finally mirrored my own.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered looking toward the door that led down to the parlor.

I saw in his eyes the moment he made the decision.

"To the office, dear. It's time for an intervention!"

I rolled my eyes, but stood up.

_No shit, Sherlock._

* * * * *

**EPOV (Wednesday Night)**

Bouncing in time with the music and working my fingers furiously over the "frets", my video game guitar took the brunt of my aggression as I sang at the top of my lungs.

"And it feels! And it feeell-lls like, heaven's so far away! And it feels! And it feeell-lls like, world is so cold, now that you've gone away! Gone away…gone away. Yeah. Yeah—"

"—Son—"

"—Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Oooo-ooooh! Oooo—"

"—_Son!_"

Whipping around in utter surprise, I saw that I hadn't heard wrong. My parents rarely came into my room without my knowledge but indeed I was not alone. My Dad stood by my bed, remote control in hand, turning the music down.

_Oh. I guess it was pretty loud._

After fiddling with the buttons 'til he gave up and turned the whole thing off, he strode back a step to wrap his arm around my mother.

"Sweetheart, we came to talk to you about Bella," she began. "You seem to be taking it hard."

I'd seen in their eyes that this moment was coming. They were a united front.

"We love you, son. And we'd like to help you get her back. We'd like to offer our resources."

I plodded over to my bed and flopped down on my back 'til I was looking up at the ceiling.

"Your _resources_?"

They were talking about money, but I couldn't see how that would help me win Bella back.

"You've been at home sulking for the greater part of two days," my Dad said a bit sternly. "It's time to get back on the horse. You're not the first man to be in the doghouse, son—now it's time to get her back."

I groaned. _I tried!!!_ I wanted to shout even more loudly than I'd been singing. Couldn't they see I'd tried?

"You need a grand gesture, dear. Grander than the others. We'll pay for you to move the piano."

I sat up then and looked between them like they were crazy.

"Move the piano _where_?"

"Under Bella's bedroom window, of course," My Dad chimed in. "You'll play the song you wrote for her until she comes out."

When I looked at my mother, she was smiling conspiratorially.

"Go all Lloyd Dobbler on her ass."

My parents looked so determined, so well-intentioned and driven to help, that it caused me to smile a sad little smile. They sat on my bed, one on each side of me, cinching their arms around my back.

"She asked for space," I explained softly, trying not to cry. "Last night, she asked me to leave her alone. And I get it—I mean, I have kind of been stalking her, so…"

My Mom pulled my head onto her shoulder, and we sat in silence for awhile. I felt so much less bereft in the protective fold of my parents' arms. I was exhausted all of a sudden and I hoped that maybe tonight I wouldn't have any trouble falling asleep. When my Dad started telling me a story it reminded me of when I was a kid and I let myself get lost.

"Did I ever tell you that before I met your mother, Nana wanted me to marry someone else? Her name was Lesley Havens—she was my best friend of fifteen years. We had grown up together, our two families being connected tightly both socially and in business. To Nana—and everyone else, for that matter—that we would end up together was a given."

"When I met your mother at Berkley, I never told her about Lesley. At the time, I told myself all kinds of lies as to why. Things like, I didn't want to hurt her, and there was not point anyway because Leslie posed no real threat. The truth was, I didn't tell your mom because I didn't think she'd understand. Lesley was beautiful, and we were close, and we shared private jokes and I was convinced your mother would never understand that things between us weren't romantic."

"When I brought your mother back to Forks, it was a total disaster. Lesley was supposed to be in Italy for spring break but she cancelled at the last minute. Of course, she walks right into my kitchen, confident and unannounced and jumps on me to give me what I'm sure looked like an intimate hug. What happened next was like something out of a movie. Lesley turned around to Esme and said "Finally, we meet! I've heard so many wonderful things about you."

My mother interrupted the story then. "And I said 'Really? Because I don't have the faintest clue who you are.' "

I winced, stealing a glance at my father and noticed his eyes fixed on my mother. I don't think I was imagining that, after twenty years, he still looked a tad sheepish.

"Your mother caught the first flight back to San Francisco. I followed her, of course, but she wouldn't speak to me for a week."

I took a deep, shaky breath and sighed onto my mother's shoulder. It felt good, the way she was stroking my hair.

"I sent her flowers, made her mix tapes, made a little album of pictures from when we first started dating. But she didn't give me the time of day until I did something huge."

The sound of my parents chuckling was drowned out by a sudden blare of sound. We all started.

"What was that?" I whispered.

My heart beat wildly. Living in the middle of the woods made for a strict playlist of nature noises. This was not a nature noise.

"It's coming from underneath your window."

My mother sounded hopeful. I looked at my father, whose lips were curling up in a smile.

"Well, what are you waiting for? For God's sake, son—go see what it is!"

They both nudged me forward, and, on shaking legs, I approached the tall French doors that opened to the outside. The sound got stronger and a glow of yellowish light could already be seen beaming from the ground below. My face flushed hot and my heart drummed like a snare as my eyes adjusted to the dark.

"Bella," I sobbed in relief and surprise as my eyes fell upon her form.

For, standing atop of the hood of her old, beat-up truck, flushed and beautiful as ever was my one and only love. And, God bless her, the boom box she held over her head was half as big as she was.

* * * * *

**Chapter End Notes**

**Songs: **

"Wild Horses" by The Rolling Stones

"Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone" by Bill Withers

"Nothing Compares 2 U" by Sinead O'Connor

"Total Elipse of the Heart" by Bonnie Tyler

"Gone Away" by The Offspring

**Quote:** God brings men into deep waters, not to drown them, but to cleanse them. ~John Aughey

Talk amongst yourselves. I'll give you a topic: Has Bella redeemed herself? http://www(dot)twilighted(dot)net/forum/viewtopic(dot)php?f=44&t=6763

And, what song do you think she's playing?

Thanks, as always, for the reads and reviews. Even the angry ones :)


	14. Mystery Song Chapter :

**A/N: **Wouldn't you like to know the song in her boom box? I guess you'll just have to read :)

**A/N2:** Why has this update taken so long, you ask? A major life event arose in early December and it has staged a coup on my sanity. I won't get into details—let's just say it turned me into a major head case and made me waffle about how to end this fic. It's not that I haven't been writing—rather, the three versions I did write in recent weeks were CRAZY. I had to talk myself down from putting "True" by Spandau Ballet on her boom box, or going all Dawson's Creek with some duo of "God Bless the Broken Road" and "I'll Be" (not kidding). So, believe me when I say it was to your benefit that I did not post earlier versions of this chapter. To be honest, I'm not completely satisfied with this one, but I refuse to abandon the fic or let it drag on forever. Please wish me sanity for Chapter 15. Seriously, people—I need it.

**A/N3:** Shout-out to the most awesome betas (_**Gondolier, SassenachWench, Mabarberella, Hollister_1980**_) who put up with my utter head-casery these last weeks!

* * * * *

**BPOV (Wednesday Evening)**

I sat at the end of the Cullen's long drive waiting for the rain to abate. A clumsy girl climbing onto the hood of a truck in a rainstorm balancing fifteen pounds of primitive electronics in tiny hands did not seem wise. With my luck, the unwieldy boom box would slip and fall on my head, effectively knocking me out. And I couldn't let Edward try to rescue me again—this time it was up to me.

Peering down at the yellow legal pad with its purple ball-point pen writing, I stared at a half a day's work. It took a come to Jesus with my mother, a heart to heart with my father, and hours of thinking to figure out what to say. I'd used half the notebook pages writing and editing, wordsmithing and crossing out. The page I stared at now was the final transcription. Yet, after so many drafts, I knew it all by heart.

_Once upon a time, there was a scared little girl who wanted only to feel safe and loved…_

Never had I dreamed that the stupidest lover's spat in the world would force me to take such a hard look in the mirror. I was nervous, of course, to share what I'd learned with Edward when I barely even knew how I felt. But now was the time; Edward deserved the truth; and, for him, I'd put it all on the line.

_Speaking of putting things on the line…_

I glanced in wonder at the boom box by my side. It had taken only an hour to find it in my Dad's garage but a full four to track down the tape. I'd had the whole ride to Port Angeles to sort through my mental music files and pick out the perfect song. But once I did, I knew I'd have to find some way to get it on audio cassette. I went to two vintage stores that I knew sold tapes, but found nothing that remotely fit. Half an hour at an internet café with no hits on stores selling cassettes and I was stuck with the tape that remained in the bay of Charlie's box. Before I had to scan the first tape of the "Freedom Rock" album for appropriate apology songs, I tried Freecycle and eBay local as a last-ditch attempt, seeing if any random Port Angelite had what I wanted. I nearly fainted when I saw where it was on auction for only $2.75.

_Holy shit, it's at Plastic Fantastic._

I raced there as fast as my truck would take me. Wet, frantic and no-doubt looking just a little scary, I made a beeline for the register.

"Hey, you're Cullen's girl!"

I had never been so happy to see the caught-in-a-time-warp hippie.

"Thank God you remember me," I breathed, practically collapsing in relief on the glass display case counter. "Listen, I screwed up with Edward. I need to get him back, and I think you have something that could help."

I elaborated, telling him about the boom box and my crisis of lack of tape.

"Righteous plan, babe! Very 'Say Anything'—but are you sure you got the right song? What about 'Hard to Say I'm Sorry' or 'Can't Fight This Feeling'?" He waggled his eyes conspiratorially. "A little REO Speedwagon never hurt."

"I don't know…" I hedged.

"Ooh! I got it!" he exclaimed triumphantly, snapping a soulful finger and breaking into song. "I wanna take a little time…a little time to think things over…I better read between the lines…in case I need it when I'm older…"

Grabbing an unseen guitar from behind the counter and switching into the right key, he wailed into the chorus to "I Wanna Know What Love Is". Ready to burst into tears from the kind of day I was having, I stood there and let him finish the song. When he broke out of his reverie, he refocused on me. My face must've given it away.

"No?" he asked, wincing.

I just shook my head. He disappeared for a moment and returned with the tape.

"Then this is on me, babe. Not that you need it. Cullen's totally in love."

I broke out of my reverie when I noticed the truck had fallen silent, a sign that the rain had stopped. Looking back at my paper, then at my box I started the engine on my truck. My heart rate doubled when I approached the house and saw his Volvo parked outside of the garage. By the time I parked under the balcony off of his lit-up bedroom window, I was panting like an overweight dog.

It was no small feat for me to climb on my fender to scale the high-up hood of my truck. Setting the boom box down and following it up until I, too, stood on the surface, I pressed the heavy play button and hefted the beast of a boom box over my head.

_Here goes nothing._

The volume knob was cranked to the highest setting, and once the music started, the stereo shook with sound. But, I could barely hear the lyrics I'd so painstakingly chosen. I was too busy looking for Edward.

A tall shadow beyond the curtains of the French doors barely preceded the doors flying open. Light from the room illuminated a wide-eyed, crazy-haired, slack-jawed, beautiful Edward. I held my breath for seconds waiting, waiting, then strangled out a sob when I saw his lips mouth my name. Our eyes locked and I was lost. But I was lightheaded and it was dark and I didn't trust that what I wanted to see was there.

And just like that, he turned on his heel and slammed the French doors shut behind him. Except my song wasn't finished and he hadn't cracked a smile. My arms fell slowly from above my head, sinking down like me, until we were a pitiful pile of destruction knelt upon the hood.

_I'm too late._

I didn't realize I'd spoken it aloud until his velvet voice spoke the sweetest answer.

"No, love—you're right on time."

* * * * *

**EPOV**

My hands gripped the waist-high glass balcony wall as I peered down in relief at my girl. _This song_, I marveled. _She picked the perfect song_.

_You should've been gone_

_Knowing how I made you feel_

_And I should've been gone_

_After all your words of steel_

_Oh I must've been a dreamer (must've been a dreamer, oh-oh)_

_And I must've been someone else (someone else)_

_And we should've been over (over by now)_

_Oh Sherrie, our love_

_Holds on, holds on_

_Oh Sherrie, our love_

_Holds on, holds on___

Once my conscious mind caught up to my body, I discovered I was racing out the front door. I assured my love that she was not too late and collected her in my arms. Losing track of everything except how right she felt living and breathing in my embrace, I may have relished the scent of her hair and the weight of her little body for minutes before I saw that she was wet, and probably cold.

"Please, love," I begged, looking down into gorgeous coffee eyes. "Come inside. Let me get you warm."

She shook her head stubbornly, beads of moisture on her face. It was hard to know whether they were stray raindrops or tears.

"It's my turn to talk, and I have something I need to tell you. I have a story of my own."

However much I wanted Bella to get inside before she caught hypothermia, now didn't seem like the time.

"It'll take a minute, though. So I need you to just listen."

"Sweetheart," I breathed, "I'll do anything you want."

Nodding, she stepped back an inch or six, her little hands holding fast to mine. Before beginning, she took a deep, shaky breath that made me a nervous about what her story would hold.

"Once upon a time, there was a scared little girl who wanted only to feel safe and loved. Unlike other little girls, who had a mother and father to take care of them, this girl was looked after by strangers. When she was very young, and she cried or had a bad dream, any of a long series of babysitters might be there to hear. Sometimes they comforted her—most often not—they left that job to her mother."

She looked up briefly, gauging my reaction. I nodded for her to go on.

"But the girl's mother rarely offered comfort, much less anything resembling love. She told the girl she loved her, but it was an empty platitude, said more to convince mother than child. The truth was, the mother deeply resented the daughter for robbing her of her youth. There were times the mother could barely look at her daughter, and because the child was just a little girl, it hurt."

She took another a shaky breath, keeping her eyes averted in something that looked like shame. My own stomach twisted with anger, but I put it aside so I could be there for her.

"But she survived," she continued eventually, a trace of strength reinforcing her voice. "Learned how to soothe herself. Learned how to make it through day by day. The mother moved them around a lot when she was young, so it wasn't 'til later that she made any friends. Left at home alone for hours on end, the small girl discovered music. It became her teacher, her friend, her shoulder to cry on, but most of all, her escape. No matter what city, or apartment, or room she was confined to, she could always put on a tape."

"When the girl got older, the mother really disappeared. She said she needed to find the girl a father. But the girl already had a father, even though he lived miles away—what the mother really wanted was a husband. For many years—mind you, this girl was still young—the mother rarely came home, and when she did, she was with a man. The men were sleazy enough to promise things they never planned to give, and the mother was stupid enough to believe them."

Finally, she met my eyes and I noticed her hands had started shaking. For a moment, I feared one of her mother's men had hurt her and, God help me, the very thought made me homicidal.

"And, so the girl learned to see the world: men could not be trusted and she would never be stupid like her mother. People who were supposed to care for her would abandon her, and she could only rely on herself."

"Oh, baby…" I breathed sadly, allowing my thumb to stroke her cheek. Bringing her hand up to meet mine, something bright lit behind her eyes.

"Then she met _him_. The boy who made her dare to wish everything life had taught her could be different than she thought. He was beautiful and extraordinary and brilliant and more magical than anything she had ever seen. But she was invisible to him because they weren't even on the same plane. He sat next to her in class every day, consuming every last one of her senses as he sat impassively for months and months, and paid her no mind."

I knew deserved it, but _ouch_.

"Until, one day, he did. And his attention gave her the most sublime feeling, but terribly bittersweet. Because everything she knew about men and boys and this boy told her it was too good to be true. So, when _that night_ happened (the one that proved her theories), she'd been waiting for it all along. She knew a boy as magical as him couldn't possibly want her and that it had only been a matter of time."

I started to protest, but she took her finger to seal my eager lips. Shaking her head, she chided me gently. "My story," she softly said. Nodding in acquiescence, I let her continue. When she was finished, I'd say plenty.

"So she ran. Buried her head in the sand. Thought until her brain hurt. She had never seen until then how much a part of her this cynicism was, or understood that she was so jaded. When she came up for air, an amazing thing happened—the boy actually wanted her back. She'd figured out by then that she could trust him with her heart, and wanted to go running into his arms."

"But she didn't at first, because she was afraid he only wanted the girl he thought she was. She wondered, if he knew she was this much more fucked up, would he possibly want her now? So she tried to let him go a second time, but found she couldn't stay away. Because in that short two weeks she'd known him she'd fallen hopelessly in love."

And just like that, my words from a moment before disappeared, and there was only one thing I needed to know.

"Please…" I choked. "Tell me how the story ends."

"She devised an elaborate plan to tell him the truth and hope to win him back. Except she needs his help."

"Anything, love," I breathed.

"Be friends with her."

My face must have fallen.

"_First_. Be friends with her first. Don't take her back until you're sure she's really what you want."

_Oh, love, how could you think anything you tell me could make me change my mind?_

"What's the second thing?"

"When she tries to make it all up to you, however inadequate her attempts, have pity and play along."

Before I could respond, she smiled sadly, planting a chaste kiss on my lips before taking the stereo and getting in her car. I touched my lips wistfully as her old red truck clunkety-clunked down my drive. Even her crazy directives couldn't dampen my joy at the gesture surrounding her return. She'd blasted "Oh Sherrie" from a boom box under my window in the rain.

_Inadequate attempts, my ass._

In a daze, I ambled at a snail's pace toward the front door and collapsed on my own porch step. Beyond my own relief, I was heartbroken by her story, full of questions and speechless with lingering surprise.

_She said she's in love with me. _

_My girl loves me. _

_She said she wants me back._

_But, for now, we have to be friends._

_She thinks I'll change my mind now that I know the truth._

It was so much to absorb. I'd seen from the beginning that Bella was sensitive and shy, and chalked up her other hesitations to my reputation and my money. Never had I dreamed that so much could be traced to some fucked up history with men. Her story explained a lot—everything, really—and strengthened my resolve. I was determined to show her how different things could be.

_Play along_, she'd said. Except I'd wanted to act. I'd wanted to pull her hair to tilt her chin up and kiss her deeply. I'd wanted to tell her I loved her and that we'd figure it out and murmur my own regrets into her ear. Before I met her, I'd been so calculating, but the force of my feelings for her spun me out of control. I'd hoped that her return would tame the beast I now knew could not be tamed.

And, my God, her body. Though the moments we'd shared had been fraught with serious emotions, I couldn't get over how perfect she'd felt in my arms. My body reacted as it remembered the softness of her skin, the flush of her cheeks, her smell…I groaned a little at the sudden vibration of my phone against my burgeoning erection.

_Great fucking timing_, I thought (not at all plaintively) as I pulled the device from deep in my pocket. I'd kept it on loud mode since Saturday, just in case I got any new calls, e-mails, Facebook updates or tweets from Bella. The futuristic-sounding echo that I'd custom-programmed on the phone indicated a waiting message on Facebook. I clicked into the app, hoping it would be the first of two Facebook gestures I dearly coveted from Bella.

_Bella Swan added you as a friend on Facebook. We need to confirm that you know Bella in order for you to be friends on Facebook._

I grinned like a lottery-winner. Without a moment to waste, I hit "confirm".

* * * * *

**BPOV (Thursday Morning)**

Peering through the window of Alice's car, I craned my neck to scan the Forks High student lot, finding relief only once I was certain that Edward had not arrived. Pointing to the corner section by the steps, I nearly waved my arms as I instructed Alice to "take his spot!" Alice, of course, was having too much fun watching me get all nervous about what I had planned. By then, I'd spilled the whole story of what had been said the night before at Edward's house and she was privy to what the rest of the week would hold in store.

The Porsche had barely come to a halt before I hopped out of the car and grabbed the treats I had brought for Edward. Leaning against the back of the car, I balanced Edward's breakfast on the spoiler bar. Resuming the lip-biting that had gone on pretty much all morning, I scanned the road tirelessly for Edward's car.

So focused was I on spotting the silver Volvo, that I hadn't noticed that Rosalie had arrived.

"Is Bella channeling Jasper? She's watching the road like a hawk…"

Alice giggled at Rose's remark. I ripped my eyes away from the road long enough to level a mock-glare.

"If I recall, ladies, it was you who advised me to go get my man. And _that_ is exactly what I'm doing."

Alice clapped her hands excitedly. "Bella, you have to tell Rose about last night!"

I shifted my eyes to Rosalie, shrugging and blushing slightly. "I stood under his window and played him an apology song on an old boom box. It was a little…I don't know…Lloyd Dobler."

Rose studied my face in that calculating way before the corner of her mouth crooked upward in an approving smile.

"Perfect."

Alice looked impressed by the high praise from rose. Before I could dwell on this, I sensed more than saw the presence of Edward, and found that indeed the silver Volvo could be seen on the drive. I tried not to stare as he parked his car in a spot nearby, but by the time he got out of his car and walked my way not only was I ogling him, I was grinning like a complete idiot.

"Morning, Edward," I said, suddenly shy.

"Good morning, beautiful girl," he murmured, stepping in close. "Are hugs of greeting permitted between friends?"

_No._

"Yes," I whispered, already breathless.

He bent to wrap his arms around me, lifting me up against his chest, holding me in a long embrace while my feet dangled six inches off the ground. His nose buried in my hair, his almost inaudible sighs of contentment, and the way every inch of his body pressed against mine were a delicious reminder that we were so much more.

"I brought you breakfast," I said, as he set me gently down, and turned toward the bags from the mini mart.

Placing them in his hands, I watched for his reaction. He smiled crookedly before he even looked in the bag.

_::swoon::_

"Glazed donuts with chocolate frosting?" He raised an eyebrow, but looked impressed. "Organic milk?"

I shrugged. "You're fancy like that."

He smiled softly. "Bella, this is incredibly sweet."

I shrugged again and he took my hand, walking us to his car, where we sat on his hood.

"May I offer you one of my donuts?"

"Oh, no." I shook my head. "They're both for you."

He threw me a heart-stopping smile.

"Humor me, friend. You know how I love to feed you."

_::double swoon::_

* * * * *

**EPOV**

It took a great deal of discipline not to use my tongue to clean the errant smudge of chocolate glaze that had settled on the corner of Bella's mouth. But I would do whatever it took to win Bella back for good, even if that meant _playing along_ for awhile and letting us be _friends first_.

_As if Bella could ever be anything less than my love_, I thought, relishing her exquisite blush. From the slight slackening of her jaw as she watched me lick the dab of chocolate from my fingertip, I hoped she felt the same.

"Can I carry your books to homeroom?"

If you had told me three weeks ago I'd be letting a girl carry my books, I'd have driven myself to the hospital for a head check. But things had changed, and this was Bella and her tiny apologies so far were endearing, so I acquiesced. I handed her my dark green messenger bag and watched in amusement as she carried one bag on each shoulder. After she let me hold the doors open for her, I stuffed my hands in the pocket of my jeans. Our classmates studied us unabashedly as we made our way into the schoolhouse and down the hall.

"Did you sleep well last night?"

Though I disliked her reasons, some part of me enjoyed the adorableness of her attempts to play like we were just friends. Smalltalk was a far cry from the flirting we would normally be doing.

"Like a baby. How could you tell?"

She smiled a little when she answered.

"You look a lot better than you did last night."

We stopped in front of my homeroom when I looked down into her face, I couldn't stop the much-more-than-friendly words from flowing.

"Last night I got back something I lost."

She swallowed thickly, but didn't break our gaze.

"I didn't mean to scare you," she whispered. "And you never really lost me."

"Good," I said gruffly, my throat constricting at the thought. "I hope I never do."

"Have a good day, Edward," she whispered, but did not move. I died to kiss her lips.

_Friends first. Friends first. _

"You, too Bella." I recovered my bag, and smiled as convincingly as I could before entering the room.

Thirty-five minutes later, first period was dragging when my phone vibrated in my pocket. Being especially discreet as I checked for a message, I muted my grin when I saw the text was from her.

_**18-36-2**_

I had no idea what it meant, so texted back

_**-20?**_

To which she shot back

_**Haha! Good guess, but it's my locker combination.**_

I smiled, and quickly texted back.

_**Danger is your middle name, Swan. Do you know what I could do with information like this?**_

When I reached my character limit, I texted her straightaway a second time:

_**(Hint: raid your secret Skittles supply at will)**_

The little laugh that escaped me then earned me a glare from the teacher. I wiped the smile off my face, figuring I was in enough trouble as it was, what with my recent suspension. The bell rang and I took my time gathering my stuff and slinging my bag over my shoulder. The other students and the teacher had all rushed from the room, but there was no reason for me to hurry since my next class was right next door.

"And you told me the Skittles were a lucky guess…"

My head shot up in surprise at the sound of her voice. Her first and second period classes were in a different building. She looked slightly winded, as if she had rushed to reach me so soon, which, of course, made perfect sense. Her tone was light, but her eyes held a current of something more serious, so I figured I'd better come clean.

"I pretended not to know you loved Skittles so you wouldn't think I was a stalkerish freak. But, Bella, I won't lie to you anymore."

Then she surprised the hell out of me.

"I know you won't. I gave you the combination to my locker because I trust you."

And suddenly it clicked.

"If it's any consolation," she continued softly, slowly walking towards me and the middle of the room, "some of my own actions might have been considered to be slightly stalkerish as well."

Our magnetism was as strong as ever.

"Is that so?" I raised a hopeful eyebrow, walking towards her myself until we were separated by only a desk.

"Only if looking at all the photos you're tagged in on Facebook, like, a thousand times, qualifies as stalkerish."

I unsuccessfully bit back a smile at her confession and the shy little shrug that accompanied it.

"Oh, Miss Swan, it most certainly does. But it's nothing compared to how obsessively I checked to see whether you had updated your status."

We stood there for a minute, kind of smiling at each other, until she closed the distance between us by walking around the desk. Instinctively, my head dipped, my face gravitating towards hers, though I managed to refrain from acting on my almost constant need to taste her lips.

"Isn't it nice?" she asked softly, holding me prisoner with gorgeous, imploring eyes.

"Isn't what nice?" My voice was suddenly gritty.

She reached out her little hands to slide my messenger bag off of my shoulder. Smiling sadly, she said

"The truth."

* * * * *

**BPOV (Thursday Lunch)**

Unsurprisingly, the entire student body quieted down the second Edward and I strode, together, into the cafeteria. Between our conspicuous absences and the Dan Wesley incident, our relationship remained under a microscope. We'd gotten stares all morning and folks were no doubt dying to know what was going on. And our current arrangement was bound to cause even more confusion.

Though Edward had technically respected my "friends for now" request from the night before, it was clear that maintaining this boundary was proving difficult. He couldn't keep his eyes off of me, his hug that morning had not been innocent, he'd come _this close_ to kissing me twice, and it wasn't even noon. It gave me sick satisfaction that he was having so much trouble, but the truth was, so was I.

_Which is why you have to follow your plan of letting the whole truth come out. He has to be as rational as possible when he decides._

"So we were thinkin' about heading up to Port Angeles after school since the posse's back together," Jasper started once Edward and I arrived at the table. Em, Rose, and Alice were already there. "See a movie, maybe grab some dinner?"

"Actually…." Edward cleared his throat, looking nervously at me "Thursday is my volunteer day at the hospital. I go there to cuddle babies."

Three jaws dropped.

"You told me he was an orderly!" Emmett exclaimed, glaring a little at Rose, who just rolled her eyes.

"Dude, babies?" asked Jasper.

Meanwhile, Alice clapped her hands together and exclaimed "You cuddle babies? Edward, that is just too sweet!"

Heedless of the other reactions, Edward looked at me as if to say "See? I can be an honest guy." A smile bloomed on my face and then one took to his and I was soon sure we sported matching goofy grins.

"It's almost as sweet as the work Jasper does at the hound puppy rescue!" Alice gushed, linking her little body under Jasper's arm and snuggling in close to her man.

Jasper looked both sheepish and mildly defensive as he shrugged. "Those little guys need good homes."

Not wanting to embarrass Jasper, I ate a tater tot to hide my smile. It really was extremely cute.

"Dude, puppies?" Edward mocked good-naturedly, play-punching Jasper in the arm.

Not wanting to be left out of all the adoration being heaped on his friends, Emmett finally chimed in "I slip the dirty old geezers porn when I volunteer at the old folks home!"

Even Rose cracked up at that.

* * * * *

**EPOV (Biology Class)**

Seeing as how I'd missed so much school, I should've been paying attention. Yet I found that all I could focus on was the heat of Bella's body next to mine. It was a wonder I knew anything at all about biology for the way she had always broken my concentration. I had no idea how I'd managed to stay away from her for all those months. It had taken effort then but now, it was worse—now I knew the taste of her skin. Before Bella, I had been the picture of discipline, but this girl broke me down.

…_like she's doing right now_

Though we sat side by side, I missed playing with her, missed our banter of exchanged texts and passed notes. I probably wanted too much, too soon and tried in earnest to behave like a friend; not only because she'd asked me to but because I feared my recent attentions had been overkill, and were creeping her out So . I suffered in silence. I gave her her space. After all, it wasn't as if she were ignoring me! Each time I was tempted to flirt, I reminded myself the difference between winning the battle and winning the war.

While scribing a particularly incoherent notation about chloroplast electron micrographs, I caught a moving scrap of notebook paper out of the corner of my eye.

_**I have a confession to make.**_

When I glanced at her curiously, she looked sheepish. Pulling the paper back to her side, she scribbled another note and slid it over.

_**I knew about the cuddling. Rose told me, and I kind of watched you in action on Tuesday.**_

When I looked back up at her she bit her lip in nervous anticipation of my reaction. I wrote back quickly, but surreptitiously.

_**I thought that was you.**_

Her jaw slackened slightly at her surprise at my answer. Now it was my turn to pull the paper back to my side and scribble another note.

_**Bella, when you're near me…I can feel you. On Tuesday I got the feeling I get when you're around. I thought it was just wishful thinking, but…**_

As she read the note, her expression changed.

_Fuck, I did it again._

While she sat, unmoving, for a long moment, I berated myself for still being fail on the difference between welcome honesty and creepy TMI. I might not have breathed as I tried to sneak glances as she penned her response.

_**I know what I said last night, but…we really need to talk.**_

My heartbeat quickened at her note, and at the look on her face. "We really need to talk" did not sound good. For the first time since she'd showed up beneath my window, I was scared. Paranoid, perhaps, but I didn't trust my hands not to write a desperate plea for our talk not to be "the breakup talk" so instead I simply nodded. But, we didn't break eye contact. Indeed, our look was the most intense one we'd ever shared. It melted from unreadable to vulnerable to Bella's special brand of determination.

"Mr. Cullen, Ms. Swan, under normal circumstances I'd have you consult your lab partner to catch up on the material you missed. But, since you've both been absent for the greater part of the week, I strongly advise you to _pay attention_."

I slid my eyes away from hers, even though not being able to read her was like cutting off my blood supply. If not for Mr. Banner's reprimand, we might have gazed at each other like that for the rest of class.

* * * * *

**BPOV**

Ten minutes after the end of Bio, I had traversed the quad and was slipping into the woods. Edward's abilities had proven themselves again and he had dazzled the powers that be. That we would only miss his study hall and my gym made me slightly less guilty about practically demanding that we talk.

I wasn't immediately sure what had happened back there, only that his comment had set something off. By measure of truth-telling the friendship plan was progressing as it should. It was only the sub-plan—the one that dictated that I not fall in love with him any harder in the process—that was quickly blowing up in my face. Some large part of me really did want both of us to start telling the truth. Yet, whereas my truth would probably drive him away, his truth was making me fall harder.

_If he leaves me, I won't survive. _

Not wanting to be seen disappearing into seclusion together, we were staggering our retreat. I walked back pretty far, past where the stoners went to get high, past the large boulders behind which the hormonal hid to make out. I didn't worry about getting lost, or about Edward knowing where I was, for I could hear his soft footfalls closing in behind me. I stopped in a clearing of fallen trees, waiting until he was so close I could feel his breath.

"I can't do this anymore," I whispered. "I thought we could be friends, but, I—I can't. I want to be more, but I can't 'til you know the truth."

Wringing my hands, I gathered the courage to turn around and face him. His sage-colored eyes were a storm of pain, hope and fear. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and his demeanor reminded me of a person who was bound.

"You still want to be more than friends?" he asked uncertainly, his voice mirroring the emotion in his eyes. "I'm trying so hard to be honest with you, Bella, but sometimes I'm afraid the truth of how I feel is exactly what's scaring you away."

I took a terrified breath and prepared to hit Edward with the ultimate act of honesty: cutting all the other bullshit and telling him what I was really afraid of.

"It does scare me," I whispered. It was all my weak voice would allow. "Only because I'm afraid it's the things I let you believe—the things that aren't true—that make you like me so much. And I think if you knew all of me, you may not like me at all."

He stepped an inch closer, his eyes softening a bit, though he had not let down his guard.

"So tell me, Bella. Tell me all the things you think will drive me away. But I already know the outcome. Nothing will change the fact that I have fallen completely in love."

It hurt me to hear him say the words, injured me to think he might rescind them once he knew the score. But there was no turning back, so I surrendered to what I had come there to explain.

"I'm damaged goods," my voice still failing to manage anything above a whisper. "The story I told you last night only scratched the surface. Being with you—even seeing your parents together—showed me that everything I think about relationships is backwards. I tried to be a good girlfriend, but I didn't even last a week without totally freaking out. And I'll probably screw up again, too."

He was standing so close, peering down at me with intoxicating intensity.

"I'll forgive you," he said with frightening conviction.

My voice chose that moment to re-emerge by surprise, shaking peculiarly in protest as it rang.

"This is serious, Edward. It's worse than you think. You know the whole thing that started our fight? I gave you hell because Emmett friended me, but the truth was, it wasn't even me who accepted the request—it was Alice."

He didn't even flinch.

"If you could, would you undo what Emmett and Alice did?"

I shook my head.

"Then I don't care."

I scoffed in disbelief.

"Would you care that I judged you for being a manwhore, when I'm far from innocent myself? People here assume I'm lily white, but I'm no stranger to casual sex."

But the expression on his face didn't change.

"What do you want me to say, Bella? That this makes me think less of you? I always knew you had secrets. Don't you get that I love you because we're the same?"

I couldn't breathe.

"The depth of your eyes, the sadness in your smile," he whispered the next part, "your music…before I met you, I didn't know there was anyone else like me."

He was even closer now, his body ghosting against mine, his fingers gently stroking my jaw.

"Before you, I couldn't remember the last time I really laughed. Or wrote a song, or hoped that my life could be like this."

His eyes had softened to something so heartbreakingly vulnerable that I let my own fall shut. And just when I thought I would implode from not being able to contain my emotion, he wrapped his arms around me before I tore myself apart.

"I don't care how many skeletons you have in your closet," he choked out in my ear. "I see your beautiful heart and I just want you to love me back."

I let out a breathless sob as I hugged him in return. The wetness on my temple wasn't rain. I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear,

"Don't you get how much I do?"

* * * * *

**Chapter End Notes:** Did I say 15 chapters? I meant 15 chapters and an outtake on Chapter 14. And if 15 runs long I might write an epilogue :) The Chapter 14 outtake has some scenes from my first version of Chapter 14—it gives some back story on what changed to make Bella make amends with Edward, but focuses on her interactions with Charlie and Renee. I will post it very soon!

**A/N:** In case you didn't recognize the song Bella was playing on her boom box, it was "Oh Sherrie" by Journey ex lead singer Steve Perry. The runner up choice was "I Want To Know What Love Is" by Foreigner. The lyrics were applicable for both.

**Question:** What should be my Happily Ever After song for Edward and Bella? Or should it be a sexy song? This fic is rated NC-17 for a reason. (Bow-chicka-wow-wow!!)


	15. Outtake: Something's Always Wrong

**A/N: **Sorry folks. I know that some of you are eager to see how the story ends, but this chapter is not the conclusion. At the end of Chapter 14, I said I'd be posting an outtake that explained what drove Bella to make her grand gesture. It did not fit gracefully into the last chapter, so I am posting these two scenes here. They cover the period of time Bella alluded to in Chapter 14 when she says: "It took a come to Jesus with my mother, a heart to heart with my father, and hours of thinking to figure out what to say [to Edward]." It's about the deeper issues between Bella and Renee and how they impact the way she shows up for Edward.

Chapter 15 is almost finished and should be showing up within the next week. Thanks for your patience. As most of you know by now, I have been pretty sick in recent weeks :)

*** * * * ***

**Chapter 15 – Something's Always Wrong**

_Another game of putting things aside_

_As if we'll come back to them some time_

_A brace of hope a pride of innocence_

_And you would say something has gone wrong_

_Again (we fail)_

_It seems we meet (and mend)_

_In the spaces (safe)_

_In between (intents)_

_We always say (too much)_

_It won't be long (been gone)_

_Oh, but something's always wrong_

**-Toad the Wet Sprocket – "Something's Always Wrong"**

*** * * * ***

**BPOV (Wednesday Morning—the morning of the day she shows up underneath Edward's window)**

_Come on, Swan_, I chided myself as I tapped my pen nervously against kitchen table. Crunch berries had turned the milk in my barely touched bowl of Cap'n Crunch a pale ballet slipper pink. It was time now—way, way past time—to face the music with Edward. But despite hours spent trying to figure out what the fuck I was supposed to say, I had no plan and I could barely think.

So I started a list (admittedly, an Alice thing to do), but I only had until after school. I'd felt guilty before about Edward getting suspended, but the fact that I wouldn't see him at lunch or in bio was buying me much-needed time.

**I'm sorry.**

It was the first thing on my list, the most important message and a necessary start. And I _was_ sorry—for the hypocrisy, the overreaction, the silent treatment, and maybe even a little for the drink down his shirt. He'd deserved punishment and maybe even a little humiliation, but he'd not deserved four days of that.

**You still have a lot of explaining to do.**

I couldn't gloss over this part. His "secrets" still needed to be discussed. He himself had said there were more things he wanted to tell me in person—I just wasn't sure how and when to bring them up. Especially given number three, the hardest one to say, the one I didn't want to think about at all:

**I have a lot of explaining to do, too. Like, a lot.**

…so much that I didn't know where to start. Part of me wanted to let it all ride, to let both of our shit unfold over time. But that approach might complicate number four:

**I know it's only been two weeks and we're all kinds of fucked up, but I desperately want you back.**

Based on his letters, it was what he thought he wanted to hear, but would he still want it if he knew the truth? Because I was fairly certain he'd placed the Bella he wanted on a pedestal, while the real Bella was rooted to earth.

The phone rang—I ignored it—I was too deep in thought, and I knew that Charlie would pick up. Half a minute later he stomped into the kitchen, looking annoyed as he handed me the phone.

"It's Renee."

I mouthed a "no", but he gave me a look that threatened what would happen if I didn't take it. She didn't even wait for me to speak before she started talking at me through the phone.

"Bell-la!" she whined in an adolescent voice. "Baby, where have you been? I've been trying to get a hold of you, but you've been ignoring my e-mails and calls."

I groaned internally, not in the mood for this after the kind of week I'd had. Renee was the last person I wanted to speak to so soon after all the thinking I'd done about how royally she'd fucked up my views about men.

"I'm fine, Renee. And you could've just called Dad if you were worried whether I was alright."

I didn't hide the irritation in my voice.

"Of course _you_ were alright," she nearly huffed, with an emphasis on 'you'. "If you weren't, Charlie would've called. And, Since when do you call him 'Dad'? You know how he hates that."

I rolled my eyes at her requisite cluelessness, intent on hustling her off of the phone.

"Well, listen. It's been real and all, but I need to get to school. I've already missed two days so I don't want to be late."

I knew if she wasn't calling to make sure I was okay, she was having some kind of crisis.

"But, Bella. Something terrible has happened!" she exclaimed tearfully before her voice lowered. "Phil and I are getting a divorce."

I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath, anticipating the melodramatic display that was certain to come. She'd flipped her shit over lesser breakups, so an actual divorce would be big.

_So what are you gonna do, Bella? Take a stand for once? Or, let her make you pick up the pieces again?_

Once upon a time, I would have simply remained silent, would have let her verbal diarrhea run its course. I would have offered her words of comfort and told her I agreed with her flawed logic, knowing all along that she would repeat the same behavior again.

But, fuck it—times had changed. I'd been in Forks for nearly eight months. Charlie had shown me what it meant to be an adult parent; Edward had shown me what it looked like to have a good boyfriend; and Alice was a crash course in having a real friend my own age. My whole life in Forks had been a healthy dose of normal, and I wasn't going back to crazy town with Renee.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Renee. You seemed happy while it lasted, but you have to do whatever's right."

Ignoring my brush-off completely, she commenced the verbal diarrhea anyway. This wouldn't be as easy as  
I thought.

"Yeah, well Phil's a lying sack of shit, just like all the others," she said, her voice now cold. "From here on out, Bella, I am _finished _with men."

_I am finished with men._

How many times had she said those very same words? For years I'd held out hope she'd make them true. If I was honest, Renee "finishing" with men had been my greatest wish when I was young. If she did that, I'd thought, she would finally choose me.

"But now that I'm back in Phoenix, we're gonna start fresh and make things just like they were before. We'll make s'mores in the fire pit and have sleepovers on the deck, and go right back to being best friends."

_What the fuck does she mean, "we"?_

"I talked to the school, and they'll take you back any time. And guess what? I'm giving you my Civic so you'll have something to drive. I'm getting a little money out of the divorce—not as much as I'm entitled to, of course—but at least Phil was good for _something_. Did you know…"

But at some point I had stopped hearing her words. I was too busy seething with anger. It was all too much, and something inside of me snapped. By the time she finished her absurd fairy tale, I had fallen deadly silent.

"Bella?" she asked after a moment. "Baby, are you still there?"

When I spoke, it took effort not to scream. My teeth were clenched, my voice was a low growl, and the fist not holding the phone was clenched at my side.

"I'm not coming back, Renee. I like it in Forks and even if I hated it, I would sooner run away than move back in _with you_."

"What?" The surprise in her voice unleashed a dangerous rage. After eight months, my facile, harebrained mother did not understand that I was better off without her.

"I said..." this time I did scream my answer. "I would rather be out on my _own_ fending for _myself_ than move back in with a shitty mother like _you_!"

By then, I'd pushed back from the table and was shouting so loud I had to hold the phone a few inches away.

"Why are you being like this, Bella?" Renee sobbed pitifully, immediately the victim. "I called to tell you that I want you to come home."

I didn't care that I was cursing and screaming like a lunatic, or that Charlie had just barreled into the kitchen door.

"I am home, Renee! I call him Dad because he acts like one. And if you knew anything you'd know I have everything I need right here. I drive a red truck, and I have friends my own age, and my boyfriend is not a lying sack of shit. Sure he's got flaws, but he's an amazing person and I might lose him because of you!"

By the time my Dad ripped the phone from my hand, angry tears raced down my face. Tucking me under a protective arm, he took over with Renee.

"I would send her to Judy before I'd let her go back to Phoenix, but in case you missed it, she likes it here in Forks. This conversation is over, Renee. If you're stupid enough to file for custody, I won't hesitate to provide the courts with undisputable evidence of a few things I'm sure they would be eager to know. And I know you know exactly what I'm talking about."

I was too busy soaking my tears on his shirt to strain my ears and catch the other half of the conversation.

"Well, it was a mistake for me to let her go, too. But, I got my shit together before I asked for her back. If you ever want Bella back in your life, I'd advise you to do the same."

He clicked the phone off and set it (more like threw it) on the table and collected me into his arms. We caught our breath for a long minute until I sniffled a bit and pulled back.

"Aunt Judy?" I swiped at my eyes as I asked.

He gave me a mischievous smile at the mention of his ultra-conservative sister.

"You know how she feels about Judy."

Kissing the top of my head, he took a step back, and gave me a serious look.

"You are the best thing in my life, kid and I would never take back having you. But I'm sorry I gave you Renee."

I sniffled involuntarily and squeezed my eyes shut.

"What if I turn out like her?" I whisper-sobbed.

His hand squeezed my shoulder, which he shook firmly but gently.

"Bells, the only thing you inherited from Renee was her beauty."

I opened my eyes and new tears spilled forth. This time he wiped them away.

"I'd like to say you got all your great qualities from me. But the truth is you've always been your own person."

He wiped another tear, and I nodded weakly, half-knowing that it was true.

"I don't know what to do, Dad…to fix things with Edward. I told him to stay away until I made a move, except now I have no clue how to make things right."

"He'd take anything, Bells—you have to see that. And he didn't stay away."

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out an envelope written upon with Edward's unmistakable script.

"He dropped it off in the middle of the night."

I raised my eyebrow in question, but Charlie just shrugged.

"I was up."

I ripped it open as delicately as my thinning sanity could handle, reading it slowly, at the beginning from fear, but soon to caress and savor his unbelievable words.

_I know I am overstepping my bounds…there are things I need you to know…once upon a time there was a lonely little boy who found he didn't like being around people…he found something to replace the crushing loneliness that seemed like it had been with him forever…his friend Music, became the most important one in his life..Then she came…he wished desperately to connect with her but, after so many years of separation, he had no idea how to reach out…he no longer had the strength to stay away…she was like him in ten different ways and better than him in thirty more…She even made music sound better._

By the end, my eyes were blurry with tears, but I got the most important parts. Like _hopelessly in love_ and _laid bare the dearest pieces of his soul_ and _many other pieces he'd forgotten how not to hide_. My heart might have stopped when _he saw what his walls might cost him_ and _he clawed furiously to tear down the stones_.

His letter made me feel like the luckiest, most cherished, most unoriginal person on earth. I looked up, in earnest, for help.

"He writes me love letters, Dad. And sleeps on our porch. Even before we fought, did you know he wrote me a song? I want to apologize, but I can't think of anything that isn't completely lame. What would Rose do for Jack or Buttercup do for Wesley or Juliet do for Romeo?"

I wiped at my eyes again, still looking up at Charlie.

"What's the most romantic thing you've ever done, Dad?"

"Uh-uh, kid. Don't take lessons from me." He smiled wryly. "Nothing I did ever worked."

"Please," I begged. "I'm desperate. I've never been in love. I need all the help I can get."

"First things first, you gotta forget those other people. You're not Juliet and he's not Romeo. Everything that boy has ever done to win your favor worked because _Edward_ did things that meant something to _Bella_."

I thought about iPod playlists and Foo Fighter tickets and love song lyrics written on swan-monogrammed paper. I remembered Skittles and Coke and toasted bagels with cream cheese and coffee with too much cream and sugar. I thought of passing notes in Bio and trading texts during class and writing innuendo-filled messages on Facebook. I thought of love letters and flowers picked straight from his mother's garden and a piano masterpiece written just for me.

"So don't go drinking poison or going down with a sinking ship just to show the kid you love him. The best way to make amends and clean up this whole mess is to come up with an apology that will mean something to _Edward_."

* * * * *

**Chapter End Notes:** What, Charlie can't like "Titanic"? As for the song, there is a certain acoustic version of "Something's Always Wrong" that is one of my top 20 favorite recordings of all time. I'd tell you where to get it but I downloaded it years ago back in the golden age of Napster. That's also where I got my favorite version of "Everlong", BTW. I'm an acoustic kind of girl…


	16. Seasons of Love

**A/N: **It's been awhile, and I thank everyone who waited nearly eight months for this fic to continue. It's been a crazy time—I got pregnant, started a company, and bought my first house, all in the same year. I also totally lost my mojo, wrote no fewer than three separate endings to this fic, and won't post two of them because I later hated what I wrote :)

The Puma Cub is now just three weeks away from being born, and I am trying to wrap up/publish some of my fic before I get REALLY busy. This and the final chapters should all be released in short order and Facebook Friends will finally come to an end.

This chapter is dedicated to those who bought advance copies of the ending as part of Fandom Gives Back, and I'd like to take a moment to recognize and thank them for their charitable support of Alex's Lemonade Stand Foundation. They are: Joanne(Joayla), Danica(Acinad), Trenette(TSW_913), Jaime(Jarkin33), Wendy(Wendy5542), Bemily, Gail, Lisa, and Stephanie.

Also, major props to mabarberella, my beta who has read many, many versions of this fic, and who has kept me inspired with hers. And, special thanks to my friend Fngrcufs, "Facebook Friends' " loudest cheerleader (who will be hosting a readalong for the finale, btw). Hugs and kisses to you both!

**If you don't feel like rereading the last two or three chapters, here are some notes that will make sure you're not completely lost:** Edward and Bella got into a major fight after she overheard Edward tell Emmett never to reveal that it was Emmett who friended Bella on Facebook. When Bella went catatonic for days, "fairy godmothers" Alice and Rose took her on a tour of Forks High, a convent in Port Angeles, and the baby cuddling ward at Forks Hospital to show Bella that Edward really is good guy. Bella did some soul-searching, figured out her mother's weird relationships with men had turned her into kind of a man-hater, and resolved not to let Edward get away. She found an old boom box and tracked down a cassette tape with Steve Perry's "Oh Sherrie", which she blasted, a la Lloyd Dobler, beneath his bedroom window. They made up, and where I left off, they just said their first "I love yous" in the woods behind the school. The story thus far had been set at the end of junior year. The first scene in this chapter picks up soon after.

**Chapter 16: Seasons of Love**

_Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes,_

_Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear._

_Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes_

_How do you measure, measure a year?_

_In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee?_

_In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife?_

_In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes_

_How do you measure a year in the life?_

_-__**"Seasons of Love", **__from the soundtrack to the musical "Rent"_

**EPOV – Late May (one month later)**

The forecast was for an unprecedented 72 degrees, a veritable heat wave for the people of Forks. On any other warm Saturday we would have already been somewhere worshipping the sun, but today was the one day this spring Forks High would become a test center for the SATs. That's how me and every other junior bent on getting the hell out of this town found ourselves spaced strategically far apart among the long library tables. We filled in tiny ovals with #2 pencils when not staring longingly outside.

_If the graph of the function f is a line with slope 2, which of the following could be the equation of f?_

I remembered the _y = mx + b_ rule and looked for the right answer…

y = 4x - 2

y = 2x + 4

y = -2x -2

y = .5x +2

y = -.5x + .5

…finally filling in the oval corresponding with answer _b_. Looked like all those hours Bella and I spent studying in my room had paid off after all.

_Bella._ My eyes shifted toward where she was sitting, near the front corner of the room. That I was flying through the test gave me time to study the line of her profile. For a long moment, I took slow survey of her concentrated brow, the cute slope of her nose, the way her mouth played at the end of her pencil when she wasn't writing in an answer. It had been more than a month since our reunion and I still thanked God every day that Bella's love was mine.

"Eyes forward, Mr. Cullen," scolded Mr. Taylor, the proctor of the test and the only teacher at Forks High impervious to my charm. Bella glanced back at me briefly, at hearing my name, which of course made me smile. I winked flirtatiously. She blushed, and I could see the subtle upturn of her lips. I smiled more widely before we both went back to our tests. Mr. Taylor rolled his eyes.

A long two hours later, we were pulling up to Alice's place, home of the only outdoor pool in Forks. My folks' place was posh, but Alice's house was downright ostentatious. It looked like someone had airlifted an old plantation home from somewhere in Mississippi. Maples, oaks, and willows that looked like they'd been growing for 200 years framed the house, though the Brandon family hadn't been in Forks for more than a decade. Unsurprisingly, Mr. and Mrs. Brandon were not at home.

Emmett whistled appreciatively. "What do your parents do again?" he asked, following the group around the side as we approached the sizeable pool.

"Oil tycoons," she called dispassionately over her shoulder.

I had no idea whether or not she was joking.

Emmett's eyes were still glued to the impressive structure as the rest of us dropped our stuff on lounge chairs. Few people knew it, but Emmett had his hopes set on becoming an architect. On countless Friday nights at my house, his trips to the kitchen for refreshments had turned into hour-long conversations with my mother. She herself was an armchair architect who had personally orchestrated and overseen the design of our house.

"Slick me up?" Rose asked suggestively, causing Emmett's head to snap back in the right direction.

Rose had stripped down to a revealing bikini and held out a bottle of fancy looking oil.

"Me, too?" Alice asked Jasper hopefully, flattening a chair and lying herself face down.

"You know it, darlin'," he murmured, mesmerized, as she untied the two bikini strings on her spine.

My eyes shifted to Bella, who I was sure would also be stifling a laugh, but instead, my girl was frowning.

"You know seventy degrees isn't warm, right?" she groused, hands stuffed up in her sweatshirt sleeves and fully clothed.

By then I was down to bare feet and board shorts—to be perfectly honest, I was feeling toasty. But considering the Arizona summers Bella was used to, I could see where she had a point.

"I'll get in the Jacuzzi with you?" I offered sweetly, stepping toward her and engulfing her in my arms. "Or I could warm you up like this." I rubbed my hands up and down her shoulders like I'd done on our first date.

She relaxed and buried her face in my chest, giving me time to smell her hair.

"Okay," she said finally, tearing herself away only long enough to strip. Beneath her jeans and hoodie were a tiny dark blue bikini and nipples so hard they looked like they could cut ice.

_Fuck. Me._

I was suddenly glad we were about to be submerged in water, even though I knew I'd get hot in about thirty seconds. None of our friends needed to see my huge boner or my girlfriend's headlights.

Bella squealed as I hoisted her over my shoulder and carried her off toward the grove of trees beyond the pool. The Jacuzzi area was well-concealed—more like deliberately private. Bella spent the brief walk to the grove swatting my behind in protest and making cute threats about how she would get me back for going all caveman on her.

_Oh, Bella, if you only knew how caveman I want to get…_

Once we reached the steaming little pool, I placed her back on her feet and kissed her thoroughly. When she swayed unsteadily on her feet for a moment, I smirked.

"That shut you up pretty fast."

The kissing didn't stop once we got in. Bella promptly settled herself in my lap, sitting sideways and squirming deliciously as we necked. She was only submerged to her torso and thank God she hadn't put on any of that disgusting lotion because what I tasted right then was 100% Bella.

I began biting her neck and her shoulder, in-between kisses. It was dangerous territory—I'd left marks before—but, honestly I couldn't help it. We'd been on lockdown for days, our parents forcing us to study and be home earlier than normal curfew so we could get good sleep. I had hungered for this girl, and knew from her kisses that she had hungered for me.

"Edward," she begged.

And I knew what my name on her lips meant. It meant that she wanted more. I groaned in frustration at my own weakness, ever-torn between proving that being with her wasn't about sex and wanting to fuck her senseless.

_There are other ways to have fun._

It had become my mantra as I'd explored the unfamiliar territory of a relationship based on more than simple attraction. I'd also developed the suspicion that Bella had been underserved by this "friends with benefits" character, and had made it my personal mission to see my girl satisfied, no matter how long we waited. Thus far, that had meant finding all her erogenous zones, one by one, and learning just how she liked to be touched. I'd had her groaning with pleasure as I loved each of her secret places-all of them except for one.

"Can I try something?"

My voice was deep-almost forbidding-a testament to my thoughts.

"Anything," she whisper-gasped as my teeth tugged again at her neck.

My hips thrust up of their own volition, just as my hands gripped her hips and pushed her farther down. Didn't she know she couldn't say things like that?

"I want to make you come, Bella," I practically groaned, my voice still low and quiet in her ear. "Will you let me do that?"

"Please, yes."

Not wanting to scare her with my fervor, I took a moment to calm myself, letting our kisses taper off until I looked up into her eyes, until her forehead rested on mine. We had just caught our breath when I let my fingers creep down to move the scrap of fabric between her legs aside. She let her own legs fall akimbo, and I went to work.

And, when I say "went to work", I mean I explored every inch of her, ran the back of my finger up and down her slit, teased her hardening nub with the pad of my thumb before sliding a single digit in. Holy fuck, was she tight! My finger was long and slender, yet her silken walls had it thoroughly squeezed. And Bella's pussy was hotter than the Jacuzzi. I zoned out long enough to imagine how much better it would feel if it were my cock. I remembered myself only when her throaty moan in my ear pulled me out of my own head.

"You don't know how fucking good you feel, Bella…" I murmured, the words spilling, unchecked, from my mouth. Going anywhere deep with her always made me lose my filter.

I moved my thumb on her clit in tandem with my middle finger inside her, until I was stroking her sacred place. One hand of fingers fisted in my hair, the other gripped my knee as she panted with her jaw slightly slackened and a tiny smile on the edge of her lip. Never before had I been so gratified by this. Not once 'til now had I been capable of truly witnessing a woman's pleasure. She was beautiful, flushed and bothered like this, but she was fucking gorgeous when she came.

**BPOV – Early August (two months later)**

"Your place or mine?" I asked Edward breathlessly in-between a series of deep and sugary kisses.

He ignored my question in favor of sucking on my neck, but finally growled, "Mine."

On a picnic table behind the ice cream stand was hardly the place for what I wanted to do with Edward. But I couldn't be blamed for pouncing on him—not after the way he'd licked ice cream sundae off his spoon.

I'd retaliated, of course—lifted half of a banana from our split with my fingers and locked my eyes on Edward's as I'd cleaned the banana with my tongue. He'd ripped it from my hand and thrown it over his shoulder, pulling me into his lap. We were practically having sex, except with our clothes on.

"What time is it?" he asked distractedly, five minutes later, the Volvo now whizzing down the forest road.

"Time to get a watch," I giggled, enjoying preoccupied, horny Edward.

I knew I shouldn't be too hard on him—it was wicked to tease, and the truth was, I'd been kind of scarce. Not liking the idea of Edward and I left alone every day in Forks for the whole summer, Charlie had forced me to take an internship with the magazine where my aunt Judy worked in sales. So, three days a week, I headed to Port Angeles to earn a few bucks and learn all about the publishing world.

I loved it, not least of all for the energy of a busy editorial desk and the feminist slant of the magazine, but because the women I worked with were like none I'd ever met. All my life I'd lived among people who seemed to sleepwalk through their lives. But, these women…these women, were awake.

I'd never done much thinking about what I wanted to do with my life, but I knew I could do this. By the end of my ten weeks I had learned a few things about writing and posted a few new topics on the web site's rather active blog. One got so many comments, the editor asked me to expand upon it for a one-page feature in the December print issue. In a few months time, I'd be able to say that I was a published writer.

Edward, for his part, had also spent time working, trailing his dad in the ER and cuddling a shitload of babies. He'd also helped entertain his parents' house guest, who had been a near-constant fixture in the Cullen home for the past two weeks. It had thrown a serious wrench in our sexy times, but she was scheduled to leave that day.

"You think you're funny, do you? Huh?" Some of the tension on his face broke and he reached over the center console to deliver a firm but playful pinch of my thigh. "Let's see how hard you laugh when I refuse to let you come."

My smile faded and my eyes flew over to his face.

"You wouldn't…" I almost stammered, "…not again."

He smirked.

"Wouldn't I?"

My sexy sadist rarely bluffed.

I exhaled a shaky breath and shifted my gaze out the window, blind to the scenery that whisked by. Given all that had happened, we'd both been in favor of taking some things kind of slow. Not that fooling around was a curse—we loved each other's company and even our fully-dressed make-out sessions were epic. But the energy between us became too great, and one day, we both just cracked. Edward and I had been doing the deed since our first week of summer vacation and things between us were sizzling hot.

"Shit," he cursed, snapping me out of my thoughts, and I realized the car had stopped. "They should've been halfway to SeaTac by now"

As if on cue, Carlisle came out of the house at as fast a clip as I had ever seen him move, car remote in one hand, suitcase in the other.

"We're late," Carlisle called unnecessarily after we'd exited the car, lifting the suitcase to place in the trunk of his black Mercedes. Esme and her friend sauntered elegantly behind him as he loaded up the car.

"One more hug, dear," called Esme's friend (was her name Liz?), opening motherly arms as she took a few steps toward Edward.

He shifted discreetly behind the Volvo door before stepping forth embracing the middle-aged woman.

"And don't forget what you promised to send," she scolded in a playful but serious tone.

"I won't," smiled Edward awkwardly.

"You must be Bella," she said, surprising me when she turned to me to extend her hand. "I was sorry I didn't have a chance to meet you. "Destinata" is a beautiful piece—I can see Edward's inspiration."

"Uh…thank you?" I said awkwardly. No one appeared to notice my perplexed expression as the three adults rushed to get in the car. Carlisle honked the horn as he pulled away, and then it was just me and Edward.

"They'll be gone for hours," he said, devilishly, grabbing my hand and pulling me up to his room. Moments later, he'd relieved me of every scrap of clothing and tossed me playfully onto his enormous bed.

I loved every minute of making love to Edward, from the eager beginnings to the breathless ends. I'd once resented his experience, but not anymore because, fuck, did he know what he was doing. I'd had high hopes for our sex life, figuring that whatever chemistry we had was already bound to blow my old "friends with benefits" arrangement out of the water. Add in practiced skill, and making love to Edward was even better than the most delicious dream.

After removing his own clothes, he walked to the edge of the bed and dipped his head until his cheek brushed against my belly with tantalizing pressure. He slithered up my body, knowing how I loved the smooth, dry rub of his hot summer skin against mine. Capturing my lips in a luscious kiss, he plunged his long tongue into my mouth, just once, but slowly, deeply. He rolled his hips then, gasping a bit as he ground his hardness into my most sensitive parts.

Just as I Iifted my hips to create more friction, Edward pulled his away. Dropping his top weight onto his elbows, he braced me and rolled the two of us over. My legs settled into a natural straddle, and—what do you know?—part of his shaft was now front and center to my slit. I wiggled my hips to let him feel my wetness. He bit "that spot" my shoulder indulgently. I bit my lip so as not to moan.

"I thought you wanted me to lick your banana," I teased after a moment, knowing full well we were beyond the point of no return.

"Later, love." he panted, struggling to keep his voice calm, but shifting his hips impatiently, "We've got all afternoon."

"Should I slow down, then?" I asked, now panting a bit myself, fooling no one of my intentions.

His hands and long fingers circled my thigh as he pulled me up to position himself at my opening.

"Hell, no," he managed seconds before he impaled me on his cock.

We shut up then, moving in that perfect, magical rhythm that felt too good to even fathom, that eradicated all thoughts and annihilated all needs but a single one.

Between the summer weather, and the rising flames of heat from our bodies, and the impatient need for release, I'd broken into a light sweat. Sitting up, I continued to ride Edward, now only with my legs, using my hands to pull heavy hair off of my heated neck.

"Fuck, yes," he ground out desperately. But it came out as more of a plea.

The change of position had done me right, too. Now, his angle was even better. We were both close by the time he clamped his hands around my hips and pistoned into me from underneath. As amazing as his body felt, the other energy that passed between us in moments like this was sublime. The orgasm was good, but the climax was like nothing I had ever felt.

A few minutes later, we lay side by side, kissing languidly as we caught our breath. Between kisses, I memorized the cupid's bow of his lip, the hue of his hair in sunlight, the vibrant clarity of green-gray eyes. I soaked in the sounds of the forest and loved the sweep of the summer breeze on my back. I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep until Edward's whispered words woke me up.

"Destinata…" he had whispered into my hair, barely loud enough for me to hear.

"What does it mean?" I mumbled groggily, my voice hoarse from disuse.

"My destiny," he whispered, kissing the top of my head. "My world." He kissed me again. "My everything."

I both loved and hated hearing his words, loved their sincerity but knowing what we were to each other pained me. I was getting better, but I still couldn't fully accept a love this big.

"Is that Spanish?" I asked. I had no ear for languages. "It sounds like what your mom's friend said to me earlier."

Edward's body stayed relaxed, but his answering sigh held a certain tension.

"It's Italian. She was referring to your song."

_My song had a name?_

"How did she hear my song?" I asked, slightly protective of what I liked to think of as exclusive to Edward and me.

"The day she arrived, I thought I was alone while I was playing it—playing it and writing out the sheet music, actually. She took…a professional interest in the piece."

I wrinkled my nose.

"A professional interest? What does she do?"

"She teaches piano—did I not tell you she was my first piano teacher?"

I shook my head.

"What, does she want to teach the piece to her other students?"

This hesitation was more awkward. It scared me.

He admitted, "Not exactly."

I sat up a little.

"Edward…you're being vague—and…weird. What does she want with you and your song?"

"It's your song, love. And she wants me to study under her again next year. At Julliard."

I sat straight up then, and spun to face him; he was practically scowling, but I was beaming.

"Edward, that's amazing! Why aren't you, like, bouncing off the walls?"

He studied me for a moment, searched for something in my face.

"New York's far away, Bella."

"Yeah, and you're dying to get out of this town. Why aren't you happy? Next year we'll all be going away."

He shrugged, and reached out to grab me so I was snuggled close again.

"I just want to keep my options open," he said more softly, kissing my hair again. "Why are we even talking about this? College is more than a year away."

**EPOV – Mid-November (three and a half months later)**

Principal Wyatt took to the stage to weak applause, not least of all because her audience consisted only of our small senior class. The woman was notorious for long, preachy lectures that communicated nothing of consequence, much less timely relevance, as the woman herself was over 70. Regardless, she was an icon in the town and a fixture in the school—she'd even been a teacher of Charlie's. According to Mrs. Cope's intro, Wyatt was going to give us some sort of pep talk about college. So far, senior year had been all motivational speeches from the guidance counselor and homecoming rallies.

_Forks High and its frigging pep._

"One can never consent to creep when one feels the compulsion to soar," Wyatt declared dramatically as she stood at the podium. "Can anybody tell me who said that?" she quizzed, scrutinizing the audience like an Army drill sergeant.

No one budged.

"Helen Keller," she finally spat. "Who can quote what Aristotle said about education?"

Crickets.

"The educated differ from the uneducated as much as the living from the dead."

And, so began her diatribe. It was a push for us all to leave Forks and consider applying to college, never mind that Wyatt herself still lived in the house that she grew up in, having spent all except her few scholarly ones right here. I rolled my eyes. She was preaching to the choir. As if any of us needed motivation to apply to college. Even the kids who ultimately planned on returning to Forks wanted at least to sow their wild oats at UW. But, college was all that anyone over forty could talk about these days, and it seemed that everyone had an opinion. When January 15th came around and my applications were in, I'd tell them all to buzz off.

It had always been my and my parents' expectation that I go to college. If I wanted to follow in the footsteps of some rather serious-looking Cullen men I had only seen in portraits it would be to one of the east coast Ivies. My dad was the rebel of the family—he'd gone to Berkeley, where he met my mother—she'd bucked tradition herself by foregoing marriage and being the first woman in her family to go to college at all.

Implied in my own upbringing was that I didn't have to go to Harvard to please them, but I did have to go somewhere for four years to "find myself"—_they_ had, and considered their time in college among the best years of their lives. But talks with Bella about college were not going well, and I was beginning to think they might be the worst years of mine.

"It wasn't so long ago that I was your age…" Wyatt droned on, minutes later. "You think I've never heard of 'Senioritis'?" she challenged.

I caught Jasper's face out of the corner of my eye. "Not so long ago?" he mouthed. I laughed out loud at his incredulous look. Mr. Taylor heard it and leveled a glare. I pulled myself together, but soon felt the first hints of annoyance creep into my consciousness. This assembly was boring as hell, and I was starting to get hungry. They'd pushed our lunch period back for this? I slid my hand in my pocket and pulled out a piece if Big Red, folding it into my mouth as I tuned out Wyatt's speech in favor of looking around.

Jasper's head was now bowed toward his lap, his eyes alight with attention, which convinced me he was sexting with Alice. My eyes scanned the auditorium until they settled on spiky black hair. The blush on her face told me I was exactly right. A couple rows back from Alice were Emmett and Rose. She was feigning attention, but he wasn't even trying. She'd given up months before on trying to discourage his standard assembly behavior—his baseball cap was pulled low over his eyes and he was fast asleep.

"A mind is a terrible thing to waste," Wyatt's voice boomed dramatically, interrupting my thoughts.

_Really? The United Negro College Fund?_

Jasper stopped texting long enough to look over at me, eyebrow raised—I shook my head in silent understanding. I glanced over at Bella, sure that she'd be cracking up at Wyatt's theatrics. But she wasn't. My girl was rapt with attention, as serious a look as I'd ever seen on her face. It wiped the smile off of mine. Something about her intensity when it came to college scared me. It followed me to lunch.

"When do you head to New York, dude?" Emmett asked, sliding into the cafeteria chair with an alarmingly full tray.

"It's supposed to be next week," I mumbled, stuffing a fry into my mouth, not really wanting to think about it.

"_Supposed_ to be?" Alice piped up. "You mean your Julliard audition isn't totally confirmed?"

"No, it is…" I admitted, "I'm just not sure I want to go."

Emmett, Rose, and Alice all stopped eating and looked up at me in shock. Bella was still getting her lunch, thank God—this was a contentious, and, unfortunately, a recurring conversation between us two.

"Why wouldn't you want to audition at Julliard?" Rose demanded.

"Yes, Edward—why wouldn't you?" asked Bella's voice behind me.

I could only sigh.

_Guess she wasn't as far away as I thought_.

"I just want to keep my options open," I lobbied, silently hoping for the other girls' support. "I'm trying to get my mom to take me to see other schools while we're on the east coast. It's not like Julliard has the only music program in the nation."

"It has the best," Bella scoffed unhelpfully.

"Actually, Yale's been ranked higher for the past few years," Jasper stated, throwing me a supportive glance. He knew all about it.

"Speaking of college…" I changed the subject and rummaged in my bag to pull out a sealed envelope each for Emmett and Rose. "My mom and dad sent these for you."

My dad was Chief of Medicine at the hospital and had written a professional reference for Rosalie, based on her volunteer work in the nursery. My mom had written a personal reference for Emmett, attesting to his passion for architecture and design. They were both whip-smart and got near perfect grades and were hoping that these references would tip the scales in their favor for their first choice and my parents alma mater, Berkeley. Emmett wanted an engineering program with a strong design focus and Rose would focus on humanities disciplines that dealt with political and social justice—she wanted to go pre-law.

Alice, as it turned out, was originally from Louisiana, and shared Jasper's obsession with the south. He was interested in Civil War studies, and she was undecided. Together, they'd apply to Tulane, Duke, and a few other schools I hadn't heard of in Texas.

Then there was Bella. Her internship had ignited a real passion for writing, and her grades and her recommendation from the editor were strong. Add in that "little" Op/Ed she wrote near the end of her internship that got picked up by the Huffington Post a month later, and her application to any writing program would be oozing with cred.

But Bella and I were different—she couldn't necessarily afford just any school, and even if she could, she was single-minded around walking her own path. That was what scared me. There were enough excellent schools between New York and New Hampshire with good music and writing programs and I was sure we could jointly get into at least one, but Bella was determined that I attend Julliard—her insistence was almost obsessive. She wouldn't say the other piece out loud, had outright denied it, but I knew the forbidden truth: that some strong part of her was determined to go to college on her own, and by that I mean "go to college without me".

**BPOV – March 15****th**** – Decision Day – 8:47AM (four months later)**

Having given up on any illusion that kids would show up to school, the administration had given seniors the day off. It was March 15th, better known as "Decision Day", when most colleges released undergrad admissions standings. It was all very high-tech. Most schools took applications online and had few elements, if any, that required submission on paper. Beginning at exactly 12PM Eastern on decision day, students could log onto their accounts to learn whether they had gotten in.

_**8:49AM PST**_

And so I sat at my kitchen table alone, phone next to me and laptop open wide, thankful that Charlie was at work and not at home to make me even more nervous. In December, we had taken our first father-daughter trip out of Washington, traveling east to check out creative writing programs from New England to Washington. I had fallen in love with Brown. Not that there weren't great schools elsewhere—Boston University was well-ranked, but I hadn't quite liked the city. I'd outright hated Johns Hopkins and was intimidated by the schools I'd secretly hoped I would adore—Columbia and NYU. I'd applied to all of them anyway. _Just in case_, I thought sardonically. Just in case…I didn't know what.

_Just in case I'm too weak not to compromise what's right for me just because I'm in love with a guy who's moving to New York. _

I was weak and I knew it, though Edward did not. I deserved an Oscar for the months of performances I put on for him. It was a total mindfuck—loving him too much to let him make the mistake of giving up Julliard for me and barely loving myself enough not to be on the fence about making the same choice.

_**8:51**_

The past few months had been excruciating, between debating the issue with Edward ad nauseum and hearing both sets of our parents' advice. Carlisle and Esme had met in their freshman year of college, and despite being only eighteen, had known they were mated for life. Since that very first year, they had never been apart, making all decisions of where to live and what to do as a team. They had tried to appear impartial when they spoke about it, but I could tell they fell on Edward's side. It was undoubtedly their story that had Edward convinced that the two of us could make it work.

My parents were the opposite, of course—they'd chosen the wrong person early on and made some big mistakes. By the time they'd realized the true fate of their relationship, they were in over their heads—stuck in Forks and stuck with me. As my mother had so tactlessly repeated in recent months, "Met the wrong guy, gave him the wrong finger."

_**8:54**_

It didn't help that our friends were so decided on staying together—that one fact made me feel like a total heel. Emmett and Rose had been through some serious shit together, but Alice and Jasper? Really? She'd once talked about moving to New York and becoming a fashion designer. But ever since she got together with Jasper, all she could say was that she'd known since their first kiss that they'd be together forever. I'd kill for her brand of confidence. Sometimes it felt like that with Edward, but I had to admit I just didn't know.

_**8:57**_

_Edward._ I wondered what he was doing at that moment, wondered whether he was alone or flanked by his parents as he waited to learn whether he was accepted to Julliard. We'd talked only briefly about being together when we found out but decided it might be too much. Suddenly, I wished he was with me right then, no matter what happened, for better or for worse.

_**8:58**_

The moment of knowing was upon me and I didn't know which outcome I feared more: getting in to Brown, not getting into Brown…each would taste equally bitter.

_**8:59**_

With shaking hand, I navigated to , just because I was a glutton for punishment. It took me a few minutes to get through, no doubt because high school seniors across the country were all logging in at the same time. "Congratulations!" the letter began, going on to offer me a spot in the fall class. It went on to tell me that I had earned a $10,000 a year scholarship. It felt like a punch in the gut.

_**9:06**_

I went to the Columbia web site next. This letter started differently. "We regret to inform you," it began. I trudged on to Johns Hopkins, then to BU, rejected from the former but not the latter.

_**9:17**_

So, New York or Boston. Those were my two options so far. If I didn't get into Brown, my choice was clear. And I probably wouldn't, I realized. I'd been rejected by the two more prestigious of the schools so far, and accepted by the two that were second-tier.

A chat window popped up.

_**Alice Cullen **____** Bella Swan:**_ Are you into Brown or what? People are already updating on their results.

At first, I was puzzled but then I clicked on the window with my Facebook tab I saw that Alice was right.

_**Emmett McCarty**_ is in like Flynn!

_**Angela Weber**_ is headed to Chicago in the fall!

_**Mike Newton**_ ain't doin' shit for the rest of the year now that I'm into U-dub

_**Rosalie Hale**_ is packing her bags for Berkeley

_**Alice Brandon**_ is waitlisted at Duke but into Tulane

_**Jasper Whitlock**_ is headed south for the winter

But nothing from Edward. And his chat window wasn't active. It didn't matter—I was as terrified of his results as I was mine.

_**Bella Swan**_ is stalling

I tapped it out quickly before changing my status to hidden. No offense to Alice, but I simply couldn't deal with this right now. I glanced again at the time.

_**9:21**_

Shit. Charlie would call soon. Figuring I'd better get it over with, I typed in the admission portal's URL, my user name, and password.

_Dear Isabella:_

_Congratulations! You have been accepted to Brown University's undergraduate college for an enrollment date of fall 2009. You have been selected from an extremely competitive applicant group, and are among 350 students selected from a pool of more than 50,000._

_In addition to a space in the Class of 2013, we are pleased to be able to name you as next year's Rudolph Fisher Fellow. This prestigious fellowship is awarded to the student who has demonstrated considerable potential in writing, and includes an offer of full tuition, room, and board._

_As no deposit is due for your acceptance of admission, please notify our offices directly with news of your intention by April 15__th__. _

_On behalf of the faculty and staff at Brown University, we extend our warmest welcome and look forward to seeing you in the fall._

_Sincerely,_

_Grayson Alexander_

_Director of Admissions_

_**9:45**_

I didn't even hear him come in. Didn't sense him reading over my shoulder. Didn't register anything until he was pulling me up and swinging me around in his arms. Didn't realize tears were streaming down my face until he pulled away and wiped them from my cheeks. Didn't realize until after he'd left that he'd placed a "Brown University" hat on my head. He'd had faith in me all along.

"I am so proud of you," he whispered, pinning me with intense but watery sage-colored eyes and a sincere but quivering voice.

I cried harder then, understanding for the first time how much Edward really loved me, how he was still my biggest advocate, how he was truly my best friend. I knew from the second I'd seen his face that he'd gotten into Julliard, but had come in waving his white flag. There'd be no interrogation about whether I got into the New York schools or BU or about whether he got into Harvard or Brown. In that moment, he had only pride and congratulations and the most beautiful kind of love.

I should have been indescribably happy. I'd gotten a full ride at Brown and had Edward's support, no matter my decision. I'd be one of a small handful of people in my family to go to college and for once, both of my parents would be in agreement and happy. In a few short months, I'd be on my own, responsible for nobody but myself.

So, why did I feel like leaving Edward would be the biggest mistake of my life?

**EPOV – August (Five Months Later)**

"Tell me why we're doing this again," I pleaded brokenly.

At that moment, I couldn't fathom how I'd ever convinced myself that letting Bella go like this could be even remotely acceptable. Parting over something as trivial as distance suddenly seemed like the worst fucking idea ever.

"So we don't end up resenting each other," she whispered just as weakly, her voice as battered and cracked as mine. "So I'm not the reason you gave up Julliard and you're not the reason I gave up Brown."

Our foreheads were touching. Tears streamed down my face, and I squeezed her more tightly in my arms.

"I could've handled Brown and The Providence Conservatory at the same-" I swiftly protested.

But we'd had the conversation a thousand times.

"Edward." She shook her head rapidly. "The Providence Conservatory would have been a tragedy."

I considered protesting again, but my words fell flat. Nothing I said would change her mind. Nevermind that half her resolve came from all the weird baggage she had about not turning out like her mother. I wanted to hate that woman—more than I already did—for the multitude of ways her crazy had fucked with Bella. But what I hated more than anything in that moment was that the rational part of Bella's resolve was absolutely right about our choice.

_What's done is done, and none of that matters now._

All that mattered was standing alone in the middle of Grand Central Station, alone because for as tightly as I held my love in my arms, I knew she was already gone. And in no longer than seven-and-a-half minutes, I wouldn't even have the inadequate comfort of holding her anymore—she'd have walked away to catch her train. And when we met again, even if we were the same, I knew we'd be different.

A/N: So, there you go. This chapter is the bridge between high school and a longer passage of time. Remember when I said there'd be an epilogue? Yeah, because instead of a vague happily ever after you find out what happens years later.

Mabarberella expressed a rather strong opinion (read: badgered the hell out of me) that she'd have preferred to see Edward and Bella's first time. Worry not! It's written and will appear in a later chapter as a flashback or at a later time as an outtake.

Finally, I know that trains out of Grand Central don't go all the way to Rhode Island. But Grand Central's so much more romantic than Penn Station, don't you think? Also, I can't take credit for "Met the wrong guy, gave him the wrong finger." There's a web site called "Other Announcements" that sells greeting cards for awkward occasions, like breaking an engagement.

Feedback is quite welcome! Thanks again for reading.


	17. White Flag

**Author's Note:** If you're still with me here, thanks for being here. I posted the last chapter three weeks before the Puma Cub was born, hoping to finish it by the time he arrived. Clearly that didn't happen and I've been a bit busy since then :) I have read and appreciated each and every review, and have not responded due to my general level of disorganization and my grueling schedule but please know they were read and appreciated.

**Special Thanks:** The ladies who bought previews of this fic through FGB have been amazingly gracious about my tardiness; they are: Joanne(Joayla), Danica(Acinad), Trenette(TSW_913), Jaime(Jarkin33), Wendy(Wendy5542), Bemily, Gail, Lisa, and Stephanie. Special thanks also to my ficwife MaBarberElla who is generally awesome and is constantly motivating me to write. Finally, a thanks to my very favorite tweeps, Fngrcufs, Jacndaniel, TheBlondeBella, Hollister_1980, redemptnsong, and RainerAdaire, who still give me love even though I'm, like, never on Twitter.

**Last time, on FBF:** Bella and Edward said a tearful goodbye in Grand Central Station, each of them headed off to college. If you go back to Chapter 16 and read the very last scene, you'll be all caught up.

**/o/o/o/**

**Facebook Friends – Chapter 17 – "White Flag"**

_I know you think that I shouldn't still love you,_

_Or tell you that._

_But if I didn't say it, well I'd still have felt it_

_where's the sense in that?_

_I promise I'm not trying to make your life harder_

_Or return to where we were_

_I will go down with this ship_

_And I won't put my hands up and surrender_

_There will be no white flag above my door_

_I'm in love and always will be_

**-Dido, "White Flag"**

**BPOV – Christmas 2009**

That first Christmas home was the worst, the bliss of our reunion haunted by the spectre of our prompt return to school. It didn't help that Edward was doing better—much better—than I was at sticking to our agreement to only be friends.

I knew it was selfish, but I wanted him to slip—to give me some sign this was as hard for him as it was for me. Even awkwardness would have done, or (even better) him putting his foot down like he did in the train station, insisting that us being just friends was horribly, terribly, wrong.

But the moment never came. Edward was adoring, but platonic; reverent, but respectful; doting, but mindful of boundaries. He still gave amazing hugs that surrounded me with his affection and filled me with his scent, but were no longer followed by kisses.

And so went our days, all twelve magical, excruciating days spent back in Forks with my dad and my friends. It was just like the summer before, with the two or six of us spending all our time together when our parents weren't around; yet, absolutely nothing like before.

He still played piano for me, but from new music he had learned, and not a single bar of my song. We still sat in the window seat of the music room, talking until the sun rose, but he now took me home at daybreak instead of letting us snooze in his bed. We still listened to music together, but the upbeat kind, nothing with lyrics that got too deep.

Crueler still was being around Alice, Jasper, Rose, and Emmett. They had become my best friends and I loved them dearly, but some moments were just too intense. They were all kind enough to be sensitive—to not flaunt how well things were turning out for them. They were all happily un-broken-up.

Before arriving home from break, I had dreaded another excruciating goodbye—imagined Grand Central all over again, but in the far less romantic environs of Sea-Tac. There were no tears this time—not ones that I let shed until I was on the plane, at least, listening to the single song he'd snuck onto my iPod. It was "Ordinary World", by Duran Duran. The lyrics were hopeful, but it felt like goodbye.

**/o/o/o/**

**EPOV - Halloween 2010**

It was 8:20PM; I was ten minutes early for my rendez vous with Bella on Skype. I'd eaten dinner, triple-checked my appearance, poured myself a drink, and bribed my roommate to stay the hell out. The carefully-selected playlist hummed at an acceptable volume in the background—I wondered whether Bella would pick up on its clues.

I smirked when I caught an eyeful of myself in the reflection of the window. Bella was going to love my costume. We had an 8:30 date to play a little game: guess which rock icon I am for Halloween? And, when I say "date", I mean totally platonic appointment that will be the highlight of my week with a woman who is, technically, my friend.

Don't feel sorry for me. Whenever I start wishing we were more, I remind myself of last year. I deserved a Tony for my theatrics at Christmas when I pretended I was handling things just fine. That trip took so much out of me that when I returned to New York, I was catatonic for days. I holed up in my apartment, drinking too much, eating too little and not answering my phone, straight from New Years to Martin Luther King.

Those were dark times, last winter. I'd pulled away from her then. As much as I could without having her seeing through how it pained me to keep her in my life. That all changed the Thursday night she called me, near tears, after some creepy dude had followed her home from a party. Her roommate was away for the weekend, so she was scared and home alone. Don't think I didn't get right in my car and make it to Providence before dawn because I certainly fucking did.

It was the longest drive of my life, forget that I drove so fast I shaved an hour off the time. It had taken about five seconds of hearing her voice on that call before I snapped out of my months-long daze and got some fucking perspective. Bella was alone, in a strange city, keeping company with people she'd just met, half of who were horny little pricks who would try to fuck her. It wasn't like in Forks, where all the boys knew that me or her police chief father would crush them if they looked at her the wrong way.

She was so strong and independent, so much larger than life to me that sometimes I forgot she was just a girl, a girl who called because she needed her best friend. And, thank God she did. Thank God she called me even though I'd been acting weird for months. But, all of that was over. I knew I would never let my feelings for her put me in a position to fail her again.

That weekend changed things, set things right between us, as right as they could possibly be. For the first time in months, I held her without worrying whether my embrace was too close. For the first time in months, I slept with my arms around her in bed. Nothing happened—nothing even came close— though I felt the current of attraction, strong as ever, between us. By the end of the weekend, after I'd dragged her around Providence buying her a pocket taser, a pepper spray keychain, a cute little flask so she wouldn't have to take any strange drinks, and enrolling her in the best self defense class in the city, it became clear what had changed. Eight months of college had taught us the same lesson: this new lifestyle was rich with acquaintances but almost bankrupt of friends. And we couldn't throw that away—couldn't let wanting something we couldn't have get in the way of us taking care of each other.

So I focused on carving her out a new, unnamed place in my life, and being the best friend that I could. When I got back to New York that Sunday night, I got my recording equipment out and headed straight for my piano. Ignoring my homework, I made her a recording of "Wicked Little Town" and sent her an MP3. My phone chimed just as I was getting into bed—she'd sent me a song on iTunes. I downloaded it, and let it lull me to sleep. It was Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time".

My Skype phone chimed, jarring me from my memories—Bella was trying to video call me. Rather eagerly, I picked up. I smiled as her video image came up on my screen. In response, she burst out laughing.

"Ziggy Stardust?" she laughed. "Technically, not a rock star, but whatever—your costume is epic! Who did your lightning bolt? "

I grinned, thrilled that my costume had earned her approval, and also because I loved seeing her smile and hearing her laugh. Even with the eye makeup and crazy wig she was wearing concealed her natural beauty, my girl was still absolutely gorgeous.

"Eric," I admitted, referring to my roommate. "And I believe we said rock _icon_, not rock star."

"Fair enough," she agreed, still chuckling a little.

"So, who are you?" I asked, already knowing the answer, a cheap ploy to make her get up and turn around.

She backed her desk chair up a few feet so I could get a better look.

"Uh-uh…" I tutted. "I need the full effect"

She rolled her eyes, but took the bait. When she got up, I saw that she was wearing, tightest, sexiest leather pants I had ever seen.

I was instantly hard, as would be any other man who saw her tonight. She'd gained two-thirds of the freshman fifteen, supplying her nicely with a few more curves. Stuff those curves into some kick-ass pants, high-heeled shoes, and Joan Jett's requisite scowl, men would be lining up to get a piece. I did not want her going out like that.

"Seriously? You don't know yet?" she asked in disbelief, taking her seat back at her desk. "And, don't even try to get me to sing you a clue."

I pouted, liking the thought. "Come on, just a few lines," I begged.

She stuck out her tongue.

"Very mature, _Joan Jett_…" I retorted with emphasis.

She put her tongue back in her mouth and her hand disappeared from view momentarily—long enough for her to lift her cup. She tipped it at me and I raised my own.

"What are we drinking to?" I asked, still smiling.

"To all of the rock and roll greats."

We settled into a conversation then, talking about everything and nothing, from how school was going, to politics, to friends. The Chief was dating Sue Clearwater; Alice was doing costume design for some Civil War reenactment production she and Jasper were involved in; Bella planned on submitting an essay to a literary magazine.

Whenever we talked, I looked for clues as to how she was doing. Did she look healthy? Was she getting enough sleep? Would she give it to me straight, or would her voice betray her eyes? Did she really like it there? Was she happy? If she was, was it because of a guy? Our don't ask, don't tell policy on dating never stopped me from wondering what might be going on.

"You know, those pants'll have every guy in the place all up in your shit," I remarked when I knew our conversation was close to its end. Her creepy roommate Jane had breezed in moments before, saying something to Bella, and interrupting our perfectly good time. "Please tell me you're not going to this thing alone," I begged, silently hoping that any planned chaperone was not a guy.

"Didn't you see Jane's costume?" she asked, craning her neck to see where her roommate had gone. "She's going as Cherie Curry."

No sooner had the words exited her mouth than did a drunk-looking Jane land in Bella's lap and plant a kiss at the corner of her mouth. Jane looked right at me, into the camera.

"They were hooking up, you know."

God, her eyes were scary.

"Erm…"

Bella pushed Jane off her lap and looked at me apologetically.

"I think I gotta go."

"I'm not kidding," I said in a voice that was trying for threatening but that came out as more of a plea.

She knew what I meant. _Don't let any guys get fresh with you._

"Edward, thanks to you I'm a green belt in Tae Kwon Do," she pointed out with more than a hint of compassion. "And, I am a cop's daughter."

I lowered my voice. "Bella, what you are is smoking hot, and some drunken moron won't see far enough past your ass to care whose daughter you are."

She blushed as if I'd paid her a compliment and not stated a simple fact.

"You know I only worry because I care about you, Bella. I just want you to be safe."

She smiled a little and whispered, "I know."

It was moments like this, when I could practically feel her, which I wanted to have last forever.

"You be careful, too. You rock that Bowie the right way and it won't just be the girls after _your _sexyass—so watch out for those boys."

I chuckled. "I will."

"Bella, come ON!" shouted Jane's voice from somewhere off camera. I suddenly hated that crazy bitch.

"Good night, Edward."

Her eyes were soft as she said it.

"Good night, love."

Yeah, sometimes, I slip.

**/o/o/o/**

**BPOV - Running of the Bulls – Pamplona, Spain – Summer 2011**

"I think that's his train," I muttered biting my nail in anticipation, trying not to bounce in my seat at the outdoor café.

I looked to Jane hopefully. She rolled her eyes before pulling out a Camel Light.

"We're not in Switzerland, Bel. We'll probably be here another hour. These Spanish trains take their goddamn time." She lit her cigarette and inhaled deeply. I sipped my sangria in defeat.

We were at the train station in Donostia, better known as San Sebastian, waiting for Edward and his friend. I was starting to get antsy—his train was already 45 minutes late, and we'd be together for fewer than thirty-six hours.

I'd been in San Sebastian for the first part the summer doing research for a professor writing about terrorism paradigms worldwide. I was charged with deconstructing the role of ETA and other Basque separatist efforts in the corresponding regions in France and Spain. My primary contact was my Brown professor's colleague at the University of the Basque Country, who gave me access to library resources and facilitated my interviews with a cross-section of local people. In that short time, I'd already fallen in love with Spain, and my language skills weren't bad.

My six week assignment had ended the week before, and it was already the first week in July. I spent a few days exploring the coast with Beatriz, a friend I'd met two weeks after arriving in Donostia. Beatriz and I returned on Saturday, just in time for me to meet up with Jane. In the two days since, we'd been catching up and I'd been not-so-patiently waiting for Edward.

"Kaixo, preciosa," said a smooth voice behind me before strong arms pulled me up and into a tight hug.

I inhaled his scent and sighed contentedly. Trust Edward to know how to greet me flawlessly in a mixture of Spanish and Basque.

"Kaixo, querido," I murmured into his ear, every cell in my body overcome with relief.

We hugged for a long time. He smelled wonderful for someone who'd been on an all night train and his arms around me felt unfathomably good. I made no effort to pull away, but when we finally did, he cradled my jaw in his palms. I got a good look at him, then. It no longer surprised me that he only got better-looking with time.

"Aro, this is Bella," he said, not taking his eyes off of mine.

_Oh, that's right—we're not alone._

Remembering my manners, I stepped forward to greet Aro with four very European kisses on the cheek. Edward, ever the gentleman, did the same with Jane, though I happened to know she kind of freaked him out.

She was definitely weird, but somehow, Jane had become one of my best friends—we were planning to get an apartment together during our last year at Brown, as we'd both be gone Junior year due to study abroad. We'd spend the next three weeks touring Northern Europe together until we parted ways in Paris. I'd spend two weeks there with Alice until heading to Scotland—my study abroad was at the University of Edinburgh.

Edward, meanwhile, was doing a semester in Vienna at yet another impossible-to-get-into program for musical prodigies. Determined to hit all the best summer festivals, he'd insisted we meet in Pamplona for the Running of the Bulls before he and Aro headed south to some concert in Morocco. We had tentative plans to meet up again for Oktoberfest, but if that didn't fly, this would be it 'til Christmas.

By nightfall, my face hurt from laughing so much—such was always my time with Edward. The country I had already come to love became fathoms more magical with him. That first night was a late one—we'd driven together to Pamplona and immediately joined in on the festivities. The carefree spirit of the Spanish was contagious, and we ate well, drank better, and made new friends.

I awoke in his arms, in his small single room in our hotel, to the sounds of people already gathered on the street. We lay in easy silence, smiling into each other's eyes. He kissed my nose and informed me that I still talked in my sleep. Coaxed out of bed by Jane's ribbing ("Dry your dick off and get dressed!" she cried. "It's starting in half an hour."), we reluctantly got up. Edward needed no such grooming, as we'd simply enjoyed a fully clothed slumber in one another's embrace.

"Today's gonna be great," he whispered in my ear, holding me protectively in a recessed doorway once we finally made it to the street.

And, it was. I nearly peed my pants at least twice, once from laughing at Edward's commentary on the spectacle of brave men charging ahead of the enormous beasts, and again at one point when said beasts got too close to our hiding place for comfort.

We napped again in the afternoon, enjoyed an amazing dinner at an outdoor café, and drank in a cellar bar for awhile with Aro and Jane. The two had taken a strange liking to one another, and at 11PM informed us that they'd be spending the rest of the evening alone.

So we walked. It felt like we walked the entire city. It seemed like we talked of every subject under the moon. Under the moon was where we found ourselves at some lookout above the city, watching the landscape sprawled out below.

I was telling him about one of my professors, a Pulitzer winner who was a literary genius but who took himself way too seriously, when I stopped mid-story as soon as I noticed a strange smile ghosting over Edward's lips.

"What?", I asked, cocking my head, unable not to smile myself. Edward Cullen turned me into a goofy, grinning idiot and I couldn't find it in myself to care.

He shook his head slightly, insisting "Nothing. I'm listening."

I kicked his foot a little.

"No, you're smiling. Now, tell me what."

He looked down for a minute, worrying a pebble between agile toes, let his eyes scan the horizon for a long moment before they came back to me.

"You're happy, Bella."

His lashes fluttered slightly as he said it, his smile faltering for a split second as sorrow clouded his eyes.

_Oh, Edward._

"_Today_ I'm happy," I corrected gently, laying my head on his shoulder. "Every other day I'm just content."

Maybe it was the wine; in that moment I couldn't think of a single reason to pretend he didn't still sit near the center of my world. The decision of a naïve, 18-year-old me had done nothing to change how I felt about Edward; and 21-year-old me had nothing to prove.

"C'mere."

His whispered command was more like a plea; he didn't wait for my response before bringing me into his fold. Instead of side by side facing the vista, he circled me in his arms with me between his legs, my back to his front. And, just like that, we were silent, our stories forgotten like the wine, now untouched, by our side.

Time warped. We may have heard the sounds of the celebrating city below us for hours; the stars in the night sky, seeming to take forever to fade. My eyes were closed when the sun peeked over the horizon.

I melted into him. He held me tighter. I listened to him breathe. He planted soft kisses in my hair, and I couldn't be sure but I think he might have whispered my name. He cupped my jaw just as I felt the warmth of sun, the tip of his nose tracing the line of mine before sweeping me in for a kiss.

_I still love you_, it hummed. _I never stopped loving you. I'm not sure I ever will._

It was the epitome of decadence—both sinful and sweet. His tongue, as wickedly skilled as ever, stroked mine deliciously, fanning the flame that had never stopped burning inside. Yet, his lips—gentle, deliberate—calmed me, their softness a salve to my soul.

"Bella," I heard him whisper, this time sure he'd said my name. I looked, and his eyes were aflame with sunrise. He hesitated to speak, but my mouth silenced his, eager once again to taste home.

Yet, we both knew the confession would change nothing between us. We both had lives to get back to. We enjoyed, yet expected nothing.

Later, at the train station in Donostia, he bought me breakfast at the same café where he'd found me. Jane and Aro conversed with their voices; Edward and I, with our eyes.

_Take care of yourself. You know I worry._

Edward spread jelly on his croissant, keeping half for himself and passing half to me.

_Don't let those prima donnas in Vienna get to you. _

I replaced his hand with my own as it tugged through his crazy hair.

_I'll miss you, too._

His thumb gently tugged my bottom lip from where my teeth worried it.

_I know. We'll see each other soon._

After we'd finished eating, he fiddled with my iPhone for twenty minutes with his right hand as his left held mine atop my knee. I didn't see the entire playlist he was making, but smiled sadly when I caught a glimpse of "Midnight Radio".

Walking to the platform, we trailed Jane and Aro, walking slowly, hand in hand. And then we stopped. And he turned to me, looking down into my eyes.

This was always the hardest moment—the moment of goodbye, though we rarely, if ever used that particular word.

"Those Scottish guys are naked under their kilts—you know that, right?"

My sad smile mirrored his own.

"You have more talent in this little finger…", I choked out holding up my right pinkie.

I trailed off before my voice _really_ caught.

He kissed my finger, and left.

**/o/o/o/**

**BPOV - Alice and Jasper's Wedding – September 2013**

"My petticoats itch," I groused loudly enough for only Edward to hear.

I was suffering a late September day in the deep south (which meant it felt like the dead of summer anywhere else) in an elaborate, tight-fitting period frock. Keeping scratchy material off of my legs, the hem of my dress off of the grass, and shoe heels from digging into soil was no small feat—especially not when one hand was curled around Edward's bicep. But I hadn't seen Edward in what felt like ages, and I had no intention of letting go.

"Shall I hold your parasol?" he asked smoothly, even managing a straight face, though I could hear the mirth in his voice. The groomsmen had gotten away with military-themed suits that didn't look the least bit uncomfortable. He was enjoying this entirely too much.

"Maybe you'd better, before I use it as a bludgeoning device to kill Alice…" I threatened darkly, placing the accessory in his hand so I could tend more thoroughly to my skirts. Ever the gentleman, he made sure the whole of its canopy shielded me from the blazing sun.

I'd tried to talk Alice down from her plantation-style nuptials—theme weddings are always a bad idea. Unsurprisingly, she'd resisted, so here we were at one of Jasper's relatives ancient homes. I'd thought the get-ups Alice had chosen for the wedding party would cause us to stick out like sore thumbs, but as I could see from some of the other guests' wardrobes, their friends were pretty into it, too.

I'd handle Alice later, would let her have her day and all that business. Given my own dating record, I likely had years to find "the maid of honor dress of revenge". In the meantime, I had bigger fish to fry—Emmett and Rosalie had suffered a vicious breakup weeks before, and Edward and I were running interference. Twenty feet ahead of us, Rose and Emmett ignored each other as we made the long trek to the gazebo on the far lawn.

We'd managed to switch things up for the processional—made it so Edward walked with Rose and I with Emmett, but the photo shoot would prove more difficult. Alice's ten bridesmaids each wore different colored dresses and the trim on each groomsman's uniform had been customized to coordinate to the dress of his partner.

"Closer, please!" the photographer was shouting, making wide squeezing motions with his hands, the universal gesture instructing large groups to bunch together until everyone fit in the shot.

"_Hands off_!" Rosalie hissed rather loudly at Emmett, distracting me from my enjoyment of how good Edward smelled despite the punishing heat.

I looked nervously at Edward, then at Alice—who, thankfully, was too wrapped up in gazing at Jasper to notice. Still, Edward took a step toward Rosalie, pretending to fix her hair before discreetly whispering something in her ear. I watched in awe as Rose's grimace melted into a subtle smile.

"What'd you tell her?" I whispered discreetly to Edward through smiling teeth as the photographer clicked away.

"You really don't want to know."

Two hours later, I'd delivered my toast, kept scheduled events on track, and pretty much fulfilled my duties as maid of honor. The party was in full swing, but on auto-pilot, so I figured it was safe to hit the bar.

"Getting soused before battle?" I asked, sliding up to where Edward and Emmett stood, still looking every bit the part of Civil War soldiers. "Don't get so drunk you forget how to use your bayonets."

Edward rolled his eyes and poured me a shot from a bottle of Patron. Emmett didn't wait before slinging his own shot back. I eyed the c-note in the bartender's tip jar and saw that a third of the bottle was gone. I briefly considered trying to stop Emmett from getting totally wasted, but I got the sense that Edward was handling him and fuck it, I needed a drink.

Edward tucked me under his arm, and the three of us stayed there, talking and drinking. It was like old times except Emmett couldn't keep his eyes from lifting every few minutes to check on Rose.

"Are you riding back to the airport with us tomorrow morning?", I made the mistake of asking at some point.

"I was 'til SCARLETT over there cancelled my fucking flight."

A few heads turned. He'd said it more than a little too loud.

"Time for a walk," Edward said, grabbing Emmett by the shoulder, already pulling him away from the bar. Emmett looked back at me, his voice no longer slurred and his gaze momentarily and frighteningly sharp.

"You two did it right…It was better to stay just friends."

I tried to ignore the pang I felt as I passed the bartender back his bottle of Patron.

Later, while Edward and I danced and I shamelessly sniffed the aroma wafting from beneath his elaborate lapels, my eyes wandered to a swaying Alice and Jasper.

"They look so happy, don't they?"

I hadn't realized I had been caught until Edward's voice broke me from my trance. I didn't—_couldn't_—answer. I was afraid that the longing to have what they had would register in my voice.

_That could've been us._

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing my thoughts away.

"Do you think we made the right decision?" he whispered.

So he'd caught what Emmett had said. I opened my eyes and found our friend's slumped form, too wasted to move, but still drunkenly watching his ex.

"Hard to know…" I murmured. "A romantic would say we could've been Jasper and Alice. But if we'd stayed together…we could've been Emmett and Rose."

"Promise me we'll never be like that—" Edward commanded softy, slowing our dancing to a halt, "…so angry that we can't even remember the friendship…so jaded that we can't even remember the love."

"We'll never be like that, Edward," I vowed and he pulled me close to dance again. "Besides," I said trying to keep the sadness out of my voice, "…it doesn't happen like that for most people. The epic romance? It works great in fairy tales but not so much in real life."

I knew I sounded defeatist. I wasn't, normally, but seeing Edward, plus the wedding, and the breakup had me doing a lot of thinking. And the tequila wasn't exactly helping my filter.

"Most people hope for something like that, but it usually happens that you just meet somebody one day and fall in love." My verbal diarreah just continued. "I'm actually surprised someone hasn't snatched you up already."

For months afterward, I would imagine whether I'd really heard, or just imagined, him whisper softly, "I'm not."

**/o/o/o/**

**BPOV – Just another ordinary day – Spring 2014**

One missed call, from Edward. Strange, I hadn't heard the phone ring and it had been sitting next to my bed all night. We had an understanding—if one of us needed to talk, we called, no matter the hour. It was with a mild sense of dread that I dialed into my voicemail. I liked when things with Edward were predictable. Yet, his message only set me more on edge.

"Bella." He sounded out of breath—not "in danger" out of breath, more like euphoric, and maybe a little drunk. "I didn't want to wake you—it's the middle of the night there. But something amazing just happened, and we need to talk. In person, love. We need to talk in person."

_We need to talk in person._

Never in six years had he made such a request. Now it was I who was out of breath, and not in a euphoric way. Edward had never been so cryptic, or sounded so frantic, and something about it scared me.

"I know it's short notice, but could you come to LA?" I could picture him running his fingers through his hair as he continued. "I met someone, someone who's changed everything. Something's happened, and I need your blessing. Please, if you can—just get on a plane."

Fifteen minutes later, I was still sitting up in bed, staring at the phone. Only now, I wasn't just out of breath—I was shaking.

_Something amazing just happened._

_I met someone._

_I need your blessing._

_We need to talk in person._

I was sick with knowledge of the one thing this could be. I finally got my fingers to work and dialed a number. She picked up on the first ring.

"Alice," I sobbed, "I think Edward's getting married."

**/o/o/o/**

**Author End Note:** The next chapter is the last chapter and I'm doing a final edit right now. While you're waiting for it, feel free to check out two AWESOME songs I mention in this chapter: "Wicked Little Town" and "Midnight Radio", both from the Hedwig and the Angry Inch soundtrack!


	18. True

**Author's Note: **So, I saved my favorite song for last. I cannot tell you how much your reviews brightened up my days, and how much I enjoyed hearing _your _favorite songs. This has been so much fun to write, and to share with you. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

**Special Thanks:** The biggest thanks for this fic goes out to the various beta readers I have had over the years (yes, it took me years to finish this fic). Gondolier, SassenachWench, and MaBarberElla were all editorial betas, and Helena_Handbasket was my TwiBeta. Thanks so much, ladies!

**o/o/o/o/o**

**Chapter 18 – True**

_So true. Funny how it seems,  
Always in time, but never in line for dreams  
Head over heels, when toe to toe  
This is the sound of my soul  
This is the sound…_

_I bought a ticket to the world  
But now I've come back again  
Why do I find it hard to write the next line  
Oh I want the truth to be said_

I know this much is true  
I know this much is true

With a thrill in my head and a pill on my tongue  
Dissolve the nerves that have just begun  
Listening to Marvin (all night long)  
This is the sound of my soul  
This is the sound…

Always slipping from my hands  
Sand's a time of its own  
Take your seaside arms and write the next line  
Oh I want the truth to be known

_**-"True" by Spandau Ballet**_

**APOV**

"Edward is getting married?" I repeated loudly, throwing Jasper a questioning look. Looking up from the morning paper, my husband looked as baffled as me. He shook his head as he placed his coffee mug back on the table and pointed at my phone.

"Bella?" he mouthed. I nodded. The woman was sobbing as she rambled in my ear, about how she was so stupid to have missed her chance, and now she'd have to pretend to like Edward's wife.

"Sweetie…" I soothed, but she just kept rambling.

"He told her he's getting married?" Jasper asked quietly, out loud. "I talked to him last week—he's not even seeing anybody. I gave him shit for being single."

I frowned a little at Jasper. What was he doing playing cupid with Edward? Edward didn't need to find a girlfriend. We all knew he belonged with Bella.

"Sweetie, are you sure?" I said a little louder this time, trying to get her to slow down. "He didn't say anything to Jazz, and they talked just last week."

She sniffled loudly, and I heard her blow her nose. I could count on one hand the number of times I had witnessed my friend cry. I could hear she was devastated. I would be too if I thought the love of my life found someone else.

"What exactly did he say? Maybe this is all just one big misunderstanding."

Then she told me everything—about the something big, and meeting someone, and flying to LA and telling her he wanted her blessing. He never said the words "I'm getting married". But I had to admit—what he did say didn't rule out that possibility at all.

The rumor could be easily confirmed. One call from Jasper to Edward and we'd have the whole story locked down in minutes. But, that wasn't the answer. Whether the rumor was true or not, she had to step up and do this right. Her reaction was too strong, her feelings to raw, for her to push them right back under a rock.

"I want to support him, Alice—if he's happy, I really do want to support him, I just…I don't know how I'm gonna pull myself together. I'm a disaster, but he wants me to come see him, like—_now_."

She sniffled and said nothing for a long minute—I could sense the wheels turning in her head as she concocted a plan to keep running from her feelings.

"You know you have to tell him, right?" I offered gently, certain she wasn't even considering it.

But she surprised me.

"Yesterday I knew it," she whispered. "But, today…now that he's found someone else…can I really do that to him?"

"Before this all happened, you were planning to tell him?"

Jasper raised his eyebrow, too, and abandoned his paper altogether.

"I've kind of been shuffling things around on my end so that, if I wanted to, I could move to LA," she mumbled softly. "The earliest I could make it happen is summer. I had planned to feel him out at my book release party. I thought I had at least until then."

She sighed dejectedly.

"Bella, what do you want?"

"I want him to be happy."

Now it was my turn to sigh.

"Sweetie, what do _you_ want?"

She sniffled again.

"I just want him."

We were both silent for a moment. I chose my words carefully. There were secrets that weren't mine to tell. And, even if I were at liberty to say how many times Edward had admitted to Jasper how deep his feelings still were for Bella, they didn't need a matchmaker—they needed to step up on their own.

"Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results," I offered gently. "You've been pretending for five years, Bella. Are you really prepared to sign up for another fifty?"

"This could ruin everything, Alice. You know that, right? It could take away what little of him I have left."

Her angst was palpable, and I knew the stakes—losing Edward was her biggest fear. But she'd lose him anyway if this went unsaid between them.

"Either that, or it could give you all that you lost, back."

"You think he still feels that way about me?" she said more loudly, a flicker of hope shining through her terror.

"You obviously think he could, or else you wouldn't be considering a move to LA. Did it occur to you that maybe he's settling for someone else because he thinks he can't have you?"

"Do you know something I don't? I'm fucking serious, Alice—now is NOT the time to hold out on me." Her voice had risen to a panic. "I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown. What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you know Edward better than anyone in the world, and if your instincts told you the two of you had a chance, you'd be cheating him by not letting him know that he has options."

"I can't go there and throw myself at him."

"But you can go there and choose to tell him the truth. And, Bella—it's not against the law to show up looking fabulous."

**o/o/o/o/o**

**BPOV**

Biting my nails wasn't nearly as fun when they tasted like cellulose varnish. I might have thought of that before spending three hours that morning at the spa. I didn't know how, but Alice got me into The Peninsula at, literally, a moment's notice. I'd been plucked and pedicured until I was clean and tidy, massaged and facialed until I was relaxed and the puffiness was gone from my eyes. My hair had been deep conditioned until it held a frightening shine. By the time I got home to pack my bag, my doorman had deliveries for me from four separate Rush Street stores. While I was at the spa, Alice had even booked my ticket to LA. And, so I sat—in first class—trying not to wrinkle my outfit as I headed to my impending doom.

I wasn't normally one to pretty myself up for a guy, much less Edward. But, then again, I'd never been faced with the threat of competition. It had remained an unspoken rule in all the years we'd been apart—we never brought partners whenever we saw one another, a fact that made me all the more nervous. If Edward was finally introducing me to a girl, it had to be serious.

Over the years, our relationship had grown and changed along with each of us, but to be honest, I wasn't completely sure how Edward saw me today. When he looked at me, was he reminded of the girl he fell in love with so many years ago, or did he truly see the woman I'd become? I'd like to think it was the latter, but it was difficult to know. For what it was worth, when I offered myself to him, I wanted to really show him who I was now. Alice had been right—it wouldn't hurt me to look my best, if for no other reason than to help give me the confidence to say what needed to be said.

After all, I _was_ different. I had thrived at Brown. Independence suited me well. It was the first time in my life I had no one to take care of, but me. The fellowship I'd received, which took care of my room and board, meant that all the money Charlie and I saved for my education could be allocated towards a substantial allowance. Instead of slaving away at some low-paying work/study campus job, I could afford to eat out, buy clothes, sleep late.

I got everything I wanted and more out of college. I had received a world-class education. I had landed amazing internships. I had studied abroad. But I took none of it for granted. I had given up too much to be there and seized every opportunity to make it worthwhile. I was the star of its admirable English department, and by graduation I was halfway through my first book.

It wasn't the novel I ultimately dreamed of writing—in truth, I was at least a few years away from that. But I had blogged my way through college, gaining recognition for writing about a topic I loved: music. After graduating a semester early, I took a job with a publisher in Chicago that had a healthy and prestigious entertainment industry division. They offered me a full editor position—which was unheard-of given my age and relative lack of experience. But, I was so well-respected in the online community, that they hired me. It was the ideal position for me since print-house experience was the final piece I needed to lock down writing cred. The market for writers was getting tougher, with few staff positions and a brutal freelance scene. I was good, but I had no desire to be a starving artist. After working this job, no one would question my chops as a writer, and I would be highly employable.

So, here I was at 21—a high-profile blogger, reading manuscripts for books written on a subject I loved, and three months ago, my publisher asked me to pen a book about international bands who had made it into the U.S. mainstream. After a month spent busting my ass to research and outline, while still maintaining my regular load, I found myself jetsetting throughout the U.S. and Europe to interview the bands that would be featured, and reading my day job manuscripts from planes.

I had even been to L.A. a couple times. Some of my interviewees lived there. It was on those trips that I began seriously thinking about getting back together with Edward. I had once looked to our college graduations as the time we would talk about it, but that talk never happened. For one, me graduating early screwed up the alignment on our timing. Before he was even thinking about opportunities, I had several offers in hand.

But there was a bigger issue: I didn't know how to even start a conversation about the possibility of our reconciliation. Sure, each of us had dropped little hints affirming our interest here and there over the years, but we had never spoken of it concretely, never mentioned any plan. Though I knew for certain that some part of him wanted me back, I didn't know how dominant that part was. He had certainly dated other women, just as I had dated other men. And while I was insecure in how replaceable I might have been as a lover, I was secure in the fact that I was irreplaceable as a friend.

And, the truth was, we were good as friends. It was less than I wanted, but my relationship with Edward was one of my life's greatest gifts. By the time we graduated, I'd gotten over some of the hurt of being apart and the longing had become more manageable. For awhile, I told myself it was best not to rock the boat, an approach that was easier the less I saw him. But spending time with him on those short working trips to L.A. made me think twice.

_But now you waited too long, and you could be too late_, a voice in my head mocked. Attempting to ignore it, I thought ahead to what would happen when I got off the plane.

Edward and I had played phone tag all day, but his last message confirmed our rendez-vous. I landed in LA at 9PM and he'd meet me at the airport to take me to a late dinner. I'd been too scared to mention anything about what his news could be, but I hoped he didn't bring her. If he did, it would ruin my half-baked-at-best plan.

I had the script all worked out in my head. He'd say the dreaded words. "I met someone, and I think I am really in love. I want to propose to her, but I want your blessing." Then, "Can you help me pick out a ring?"

That would be my cue to make my confession: "If you are in love, Edward," I would say, "…then I'm very happy for you and wish you all the best. But, if there is even an iota of doubt in your mind, I want you to know you have options."

See, that there was a problem. The words were accurate, but I couldn't think of the right way to say it. When I said it in my mind, it always came out overly suggestive. I pictured myself covering my hand with his and raising a provocative eyebrow on the word "options".

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_ I thought no fewer than thirty-five times on the plane, almost willing time to go faster so I could just get it the hell over with. But, of course, it didn't, giving me a bit more time to come up with something more acceptable to say.

But, when I saw Edward, thoughts of my plan disappeared, and I was lost in bronze hair and sage-colored eyes. And then he was hugging me tight and breathing my name into my hair. Tears sprung to my eyes, and I held him extra long to give me time to hold them back.

"You get more and more beautiful every time I see you, love," he said with a kind smile before taking my bag and putting his hand on the small of my back as he ushered us toward the baggage claim exit. "Sorry to rush, but I'm parked illegally and we have reservations for dinner. At this time of night, it shouldn't take long to get downtown."

In the car, I stalled. Took radio control, ribbed him about his car, a new S5 convertible; let him talk about In-N-Out Burger and parties in the valley, and teased that he was becoming soooo LA.

"It's not so bad here, Isabella," he argued at one point. "Sunshine agrees with you. If you tried living here, I think you might like it."

My face flushed, and when I spoke I tried to keep the tremble out of my voice. "Funny…I was thinking the same thing, too."

**o/o/o/o/o**

**EPOV**

"Are you serious?" I asked, uncaring that we'd just pulled up to the restaurant, and that valets had opened both our doors. I couldn't think of a single thing better than Bella moving to LA.

"Is this city big enough for the both of us?" She said it jokingly, but there was something behind her words.

I wanted to come back with a lighthearted comment. "For you, I'll make room," I would have said, but I now saw there was something weird going on with her.

"Come on, love," I said instead. "Let's go inside and talk."

I would find out what was going on with her before the night was over, but I was bursting with my news. All day, I'd obsessed over how to tell her and now I just needed to get it out. Wanting to be polite before diving into a heady topic, I decided to wait until we'd ordered drinks and appetizers to finally bring it up.

I was blabbing about how this had been an"it"-spot back in the sixties when the Rat Pack had hung out here. My voice was more nervous than I liked when I regaled Bella with trivia about celebrity scandals that had earned it notoriety in years since. Before I could finish recounting a rumor involving Sheryl Crow, Trent Reznor, and a little too much to drink, she interrupted me with evident trepidation.

"Just tell me."

My knee-jerk response was to feign innocence, and I didn't know why. Instead I grimaced. Why was I getting so worked up to tell her?

"Edward…why am I here?"

There was something cautious behind her eyes. It was that caution that had me scared. I had always believed I could tell her anything, but the topic of us was a notable exception. Our friendship was beyond beautiful, but all these years later there were things of which we never spoke. For the first time in years I was going to bring up one of them.

"I have something to tell you, but I don't know how you'll take it…"

I admitted this with sheepish apprehension.

"What are you afraid I'll say?"

"I'm afraid you won't approve."

"And if I don't?"

"If you don't, I'll pull the plug."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

She thought about this for a moment.

"Don't take this the wrong way, okay?" she hedged. I nodded, and she continued. "Why does my approval mean so much to you? I mean, whatever this is, you said you'd walk away from it. For me. But, whatever it is, it's obviously important."

"Your friendship is worth more."

"Than your happiness? Edward, it's a lot of pressure to have this much power over you. What if you ask me and I give the wrong answer?"

"There is no wrong answer. Someone wants something from me but it isn't mine to give. If she wants to have it, she has to get it from you."

The strangest look crossed her features then. Confusion. Hope. Disappointment. I didn't get it.

"What if I'm too selfish to give it up?"

I realized two things in that moment. For one, we weren't talking in hypotheticals. I was also fairly certain she didn't know I was talking about her song.

"You don't have to give up anything," I said quietly.

We didn't talk for a long while. For minutes, I was too chicken-shit to ask the question.

"What is it that you don't want to give up?" I asked finally.

She huffed out an anguished laugh that was more like a sob.

"Something I'm not even sure is mine."

_Holy fuck…_

As our waitress passed our table en route to somewhere else, I realized I didn't want to do this here.

"Check, please," I flagged her down, fishing into my pockets for some cash.

**o/o/o/o/o**

**BPOV**

"Wait."

I put my hand over Edward's. This was something I had to do.

"If I don't say this now…" I trailed off.

I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

"I'm terrified," I admitted in a whisper.

"Don't be," he breathed back, the fear that had been in his eyes just moments before suddenly replaced with an optimistic glint.

"Remember how I said earlier that I was thinking about moving to L.A.? I _am_ thinking about moving here—to be with you. I've been laying the groundwork for months, setting it up so that I could work from here, or anywhere you are."

My teeth clamped down on my bottom lip as I watched Edward blink in surprise.

"The thing is, I'm not scared anymore. I got what I wanted all those years ago—Brown was what I wanted for myself and Julliard was what I wanted for you. But now that we've graduated and the reasons we couldn't be together went away, my plan was to give it a try."

"Bella—" his ragged voice came, springing tears to my eyes. I squeezed his hand to stop him from his talking.

"I swear I'm not doing this out of fear, or spite, or even jealousy. I was going to ask you, over Christmas, whether it was something you wanted, too. But since I heard your message this morning, I'm terrified that it's not."

His warm hand came to cup her jaw, his thumb sweeping under her eye, wiping away her tears. His eyes were full of tenderness.

"So, I'm sorry. You weren't supposed to find out this way. I never wanted to back you into a corner. But I can't let you ask me for my blessing on something like this without you knowing where I really stand."

However strong my desire to close my eyes, to shield myself from his reaction, I fixed him with my gaze. It was the most important and heartfelt of confessions and I needed him to see how much my words meant. But watching him, steeling myself for his reaction—whatever it may be—was the hardest thing I think I'd ever done. Whatever came, I knew I deserved it. After all, it was me who'd walked away.

"It's big enough for the both of us," he said gruffly. I had no idea what he meant.

"L.A.," he explained, determination seeping into his voice. "It's the perfect size for you and me."

I shook my head to clear the fog. I didn't understand.

"I'm sorry, too, Bella…" His eyes softened even more. "I think my message may have left you with the wrong impression."

**o/o/o/o/o**

**EPOV**

She was shaking like a leaf. I didn't mean to upset her further, but it still felt wrong to do this here. I held her hand every second that I wasn't shifting gears during the twenty minutes it took me to drive us to my home.

It had been nearly a month since I'd closed on the spacious bungalow in Marina del Rey. It was one Bella had seen with me during her last trip to L.A. I'd been in the market for a new rental—something large enough to accommodate my piano. The place next door was the one up for rental—when we arrived we found out it was taken; I was ready to get back into the car to go see the next place, but Bella insisted we check out the one with the 'For Sale' sign.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't take it because she loved it. Her eyes lit up with something I had never seen as we walked through the bright, spacious rooms. It had two large and two medium sized bedrooms which, for me, would translate into a master, a guest room, a recording studio, and an office. Its proudest features were an exceptionally sized backyard, particularly for California, and bay windows in nearly every room. The master bedroom had a fantastic private deck with a fire pit and a Jacuzzi, and fantastic ocean views.

"_This is a great place, Edward," she'd said. "Plenty of room for your pianos…and so _inspiring_."_

_I didn't miss the wistfulness in her voice. _

"_If I bought it, you could come here and write," I suggested. "…when the Chicago winter gets too cold, or, you know, whenever you wanted."_

One of the internships I'd done in college had been with the legendary film composer, Howard Shore. Between his tutelage and my blossoming passion for film score work, I knew that composition was my calling and Los Angeles would be my home. The trust fund generously supplied by my parents had seen its first—and only—withdrawal for the purchase of my house and my new car. I'd never thought of myself as an L.A. type, but it was starting to feel like it fit.

Not that staying in New York hadn't crossed my mind. Throughout college, I had nursed fantasies of Bella joining me there one day. It was a writer's mecca and seemed a logical choice. But when she'd gotten an offer she couldn't refuse with a publisher in Chicago, I went ahead and moved to L.A., a place to bide my time and build my career until the time to go to her was right.

It was hard to fathom what she had just told me at the restaurant—difficult to accept that we'd each had the same plan. Pulling my car into my garage, I cut the engine and hastened to get out myself so I could go around and open her door.

"Let me show you," I implored.

She looked as confused as she had at the restaurant, but I extended my hand. It dawned on me, as I noticed how her eyes scanned for details as I led her through my home, that she was looking for evidence of a woman. How could she not know that she was the only woman for me?

"We're here," I said as I flipped the light on in the small room that served as my office. It was also a recording studio. One long wall held a desk and all my computer equipment, while the opposite one held a deep bank of desks with sound boards of all kinds. Through the window above the sound mixing equipment was the room where I played my piano. And, it really was my piano—the same Steinway on which I'd played for countless hours honing my piano craft.

I sat her down on the wheeled stool that stood before the sound boards while I searched my desk for a shallow stack of papers. When I found them, I sat down on my own desk chair and reached forward to roll her forward so she and her chair were much closer, seated loosely between my legs.

"Read it," I commanded gently, shoving the papers towards her.

She shot me a nervous look before taking them, as if placing them in her hands would cause her to burst into flames. But, she did take them, flipping over the front cover, which simply held a memorandum addressing the item to a Mr. Edward Cullen from a Ms. Barbara Gerrard of Warner Brothers Studio. I watched Bella's face carefully for recognition of the name—being in the business, I thought she might have heard of her.

She read aloud.

_This Confidential Disclosure Agreement is entered into effective May 1st, 2014 ("Effective Date") between Warner Brothers Studio ("Studio") and musical composer Edward Cullen ("Composer") having a principal place of business at 1401 Joshua Lane, Marina Del Rey, CA._

_Whereas the Studio wishes to conduct activities relating to the musical direction of an optioned film ("Project"); and_

_Whereas the Composer is the originator of the musical piece entitled 'Destinata'; and_

_Whereas a third party, Ms. Isabella Swan ("Owner") is the owner of the musical piece entitled 'Destinata', _

_The Owner hereby licenses the usage of the musical piece 'Destinata' for the optioned Project and the Composer agrees to arrange additional renditions for the film_

She stopped reading aloud, her lips mouthing the words too quickly for the sound to escape. When she glanced back up, she looked gobsmacked.

"They want to buy your song?"

"It's your song, Bella. It always has been."

"But, how?" she choked. "I thought…you stopped playing it for me. I thought you hadn't played it in years."

"My sound editor heard it by mistake—he was looking for a different song file on my hard drive. He said it would be perfect for a different project he was working on. When I told him it wasn't for sale he thought I was just too nervous to put anything out there. He essentially stole the recording and submitted it to a producer at Warner Brothers."

I studied her face, for any reaction, any indication of what she was thinking.

"They loved it, Bella," I whispered. "They want it—bad. I got a call out of the blue for a meeting, so of course I took it. They took me to dinner last night. They thought I was just playing hardball when I kept saying no. They offered me more and more money, but I finally told them I had written the song for you and wasn't at liberty to sell it. So they found out who you were and wrote you into the contract. The revision was on my doorstep before I even got home."

Her breath was rapid as she looked back and forth between me and the contract. I could tell it was taking a little while to sink in.

"That's when I called you—late last night after I got home. I figured I'd better stop blocking this and let you decide whether you want to sell," I prattled on, her silence making me nervous.

"S-so the amazing thing that happened…" she stuttered in question.

"…was getting offered a spot for one of my compositions on a major movie score."

"And the person you met…" she continued.

"Was a record exec," I cringed.

"And you wanted my blessing to sell your song."

"_Your_ song," I corrected again gently.

"And you needed to see me in person so I would sign the contract?"

"No," I said firmly, "I needed you to come because I didn't think it was the sort of thing to decide on the phone. In retrospect, I suppose I could have come to Chicago but it's cold there and I admit I was a little drunk."

And this was the moment I'd been anticipating, the moment when I learned whether my song still meant anything to her. It helped to know that she still wanted to be with me, but "Destinata" was something we never discussed. How many times had I played that song when I wanted to feel close to her, no matter how many miles we were apart? I'd made a recording of it once—did she still have it? Did she ever listen?

"So, there's no one else?" she asked, looking broken. "No girlfriend, no fiancé?"

I tucked hair behind her ear before cupping her jaws in my palm and leaning in to brush my lips across her soft ones.

"My Bella…it's always, only, ever been you."

**o/o/o/o/o**

**BPOV**

The kiss that followed Edward's confession was of the epic variety, the kind belonging to a type of romance I had mocked just months before at Alice's wedding. It was desperate, yet sweet. Slow, yet frenzied, hands caressing and urgent, yet fusing us together. When we came up for breath, I was on his lap, straddling him across his chair, leaning my forehead to his.

"I love you…I love you so much," he breathed, a long tear sliding down his face.

It was all a dream, him standing us up, sweeping me bridal-style into his arms. I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder as he carried me to his bed. He placed me down, and began undressing me so gently, so intimately, I sighed at his feather touch. He left a trail of delicate kisses on the places where he'd just removed clothing, divesting me of all but my bra and panties. His eyes roved my nearly naked body, longingly, but only for a fleeting moment, before he dug into a drawer and recovered one of his old t-shirts, which he pulled over my head.

I climbed back a bit on his bed, taking in the view as he unbuttoned his jeans, pushed them down to reveal tanned, muscular legs. Edward was just as lean as before, but thicker with muscles, more manly. Right down to his snug-fitting gray undershirt and his green striped boxers, grown-up Edward was ten kinds of sexy.

I yawned, prompting Edward to look at the clock. When my eyes followed, I saw it was past midnight, which meant it was past 2AM in Chicago. Between the emotional stress of the day and the late hour I was exhausted.

"Tonight, we sleep," he said, pre-empting me from finding my second wind. "Tomorrow morning, we do everything else," he murmured a bit cheekily as he helped me into bed. I wasted no time stealing another long, delicious kiss before burrowing more deeply into his embrace. Just before I felt myself drift off completely, I heard him whisper to me.

"Welcome Home"

**o/o/o/o/o**

**Epilogue – BPOV**

"Danzig?"

"No."

"Deftones?"

"No."

"Death Cab?"

I looked up at Edward and rolled my eyes. Maybe agreeing to consider a rock band for our son's middle name hadn't been such a great idea. I was 37 weeks pregnant, so we really needed to get serious.

"Divo?"

"It has to be a band we _like_," I entoned. "Besides, I don't know why you're giving me bands that start with 'D'. I already told you ten times—our son will not have the initials AC/DC."

Edward looked up at me with truly pathetic puppydog eyes.

"Pleeeeeease?" he asked sweetly. "I'll rub your feet again."

_Hmmmm, tempting_…but I had to remain strong.

"Give it up, Cullen." I commanded, sticking my feet out for him to rub anyway. (He did.)

Never in my life would I forget the day we'd told Carlisle and Esme our good news. In their retirement, they had bought a place in Santa Barbara where they could come to for the winter. That put them roughly 45 minutes away from our house in Marina Del Rey, where I'd moved into with Edward the previous summer. We'd only done the long distance thing for ten weeks, but it still felt like ten weeks too long. We saw each other often, during that time. My book research still took me to L.A. every few weeks and there were some other meetings to attend since we had jointly decided to license my song.

And, so our courtship commenced—when I came, Edward took me out on dates. It was as sweet as I'd ever seen him. I'd have been content to watch paint dry, as long as we were together, but Edward was set on making up for lost time. We discovered L.A. together while, bit by bit, turning his house into our home. Yet, half the time we spent in the bungalow was on the bed. And half the time out of the bed was spent bent over the back of the couch, against the wall of the shower, splayed out on top of his baby grand.

In that department, Edward was even more talented than I'd remembered, though over the years I'd often wondered whether I had only built him up as the best lover I'd ever had in my mind. It was no figment of my imagination—only he had ever found that special rhythm; only he knew the right way to fuck me slow, and hard, and deep. Then there were the other skills, skills I didn't want to think about how he'd learned but that served me very, very well. That first weekend, he'd pushed me to the edges of pleasure and sanity, taken me there over and over again.

"T and T, Bella?" Esme had asked that day, as she walked me to their spacious backyard. On these Sunday visits, It was customary for us to have drinks before dinner at the large covered table by the pool. Edward and Carlisle usually tossed back a sixer of beer before moving on to the scotch while Esme and I sipped away at Tanqueray and tonics, and talked. The Beatles only rule had endured the years, and, despite the brand new digs, made everything feel like home.

"No thanks," I had hedged lightly. "But I'll take a soda. Do you have any ginger ale?"

She'd stopped mid-gait, stepping back from me as her eyes flew to my midsection, then up to my eyes. The bathing suit cover-up I wore was loose and flowy, but still she could tell…

"Oh, Bella!" tears sprung to her eyes. "Are you expecting?"

I smiled, not needing to say the words for Esme to hear the answer. Her joy was palpable, and my hormones were working overtime, so before I knew it, we were hugging, and both in tears.

"Looks like the cat's out of the bag," Edward had said when he found us on the patio, seeming not at all pissed that we'd agreed to wait to tell them together. Ever since Edward had heard the news, he'd been bursting to tell everyone—it was I who'd wanted to wait.

"What cat?" Carlisle had asked as he stepped in behind Edward, handing his son a beer.

Edward collected me into his arms, my back to his front and set a gentle hand on my little bump.

"Dad, Bella and I are pregnant."

Carlisle beamed. "Son, that's fantastic!" And soon he had kissed me on the cheek, shaken Edward's hand and pulled a teary-eyed Esme into his arms. Five minutes later I was sipping my ginger ale from a champagne flute while the other three drank the real stuff. The tone changed from elation to something more somber, but hopeful, when we told them the rest.

"We'd like to call him Anthony…if that's alright with you."

I had put my hand over Esme's as I asked permission, looking between she and Carlisle. It had been my idea, one I'd said straightaway to Edward as soon as we found out we were having a boy.

"We'd be honored," Carlisle had replied with tears in his voice.

Soon after, we sat for dinner, where I ate twice my normal helping. By contrast, Esme was too excited to eat. By the end of the meal, they were all drunk (having opened a second bottle of champagne), laughing and singing along to "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da."

"How about David?" Edward asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. His voice was different when he mentioned this one. "Like Dave Grohl."

I smiled at the memory.

"He did sing us our first song," I mused, remembering our first date at The Vermillion Room some seven years before.

"Anthony Charles David Cullen," Edward said smiling hopefully. "I think it sounds kind of nice."

The truth was, I did too. In my mind, I ceded my earlier position before he even pulled all hundred and seventy pounds of me into his loving arms.

"ACDC it is," I said, grinning at the irony.

Anthony kicked spiritedly, as if approving our decision. Edward clicked through the iPod until he found "You Shook Me All Night Long". I giggled as Edward sang, intermittently to me and my gargantuan belly. My little son finally had a name.

**o/o/o/o/o**

**Author's Note:** I thought about puckering it up with a juicy lemon somewhere in her, but somehow it doesn't feel right. Put me on author alert and maybe one day I'll finish some drabble I had written with the ExB reunion sex. This is also not the original ending that I wrote for this fic. I may post the other one, one day, as a separate fic titled "Scooby Doo Ending" or something like that.

**Ask Me Anything!** Now that it's over, I'll be taking questions about this fic on formspring. My ID on the site is greenpuma


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